A Little Birdy
by jazzin juke
Summary: When a humble wanderer whose only goal is to see the world gets caught in the crossfire between forces they never wanted to deal with, what are they to do? Keep your head low and try to get through it as painlessly as possible, she supposes. Which is also why she supposes she ends up doing the exact opposite.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: First Meeting (Year 0, Week 0, Day 1)**

Fate certainly had a special way of utterly and unquestionably fucking you over when you least expected or needed it to.

At least, that was what she thought to herself bitterly as she resigned herself and took a fighting stance.

"I don't suppose that there's any chance convincing you that I'm not worth your time, is there?" she asked halfheartedly.

"No, there's really not," the tall man chuckled quietly, his stance lazily shifting to match hers, that god-damned creepy smile fixed on his face; the bastard probably did it on purpose, she thought.

The two faced each other, neither moving, not even seeming to breathe. Finally, he surged forward, a powerful fist raised, a look of grim amusement and determination on his face.

She was not a strong fighter. She never had been and she was probably right to believe she never would be. How then had she survived on Grand Line for so many years, you might ask.

Well, the fact that she could be quick on her feet might have contributed to this, but only slightly.

It was mostly by sheer dumb luck and well-placed clumsiness that she had ever made it this far.

Unfortunately, it was these same things that often landed her in unfavorable situations.

Such as the one she was in at that exact moment.

How had this happened? Well, she knew _how_ it happened, she just didn't understand why it happened to _her_.

It wasn't her fault that she had landed her Aero Ship on top of that Marine Captain that morning. Who the hell slept on top of roofs anyway?

It wasn't her fault that he had been furious with her and demanded compensation for his medical bills. Who the hell needed medical attention for a couple of bruises anyway? She did feel bad, but it wasn't like she had caused irreparable damage.

It wasn't her fault that the little incident had her running small errands for the island's Marines for the day.

It wasn't her fault that the Marines had been impractical and built two separate bases on opposite sides of the town, making communication more difficult and constantly reliant on people to run back and forth between them, a job which she had temporarily been given.

It wasn't her fault that there was a larger gap than she initially anticipated in between the buildings she was running over.

It wasn't her fault that she fell down onto the pedestrians walking below in the streets.

And it _certainly_ wasn't her fault that she had landed on the head of a Whitebeard commander, knocking him out.

Not her fault at all.

* * *

Fourth Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates, Thatch, had not been having a splendid day. His crew had taken it upon themselves to thoroughly party well into the small hours of morning—all he could remember of the celebration was a blur of music, booze, several attractive local women, and something about a drinking contest. He was pretty sure he had won, looking back on his collection of scattered, fuzzy memories of a couple hours ago, trying to piece them together. He certainly didn't feel like a winner at that moment, clutching his head as he stepped out of the inn a few of his crewmates had crashed at, onto the mid-day bustle of the streets.

He was greeted by his 'brothers', Marco and Jozu, of the First and Third Divisions respectively. Marco smirked at Thatch's unkempt hair and blurry eyes.

"Save me the smug look, I'm not in the mood," Thatch groaned, his hand once again at his forehead. His own voice caused his brain to protest sharply. The busy noises of the city weren't helping much.

"Not my fault you can't handle your drink," his friend jabbed at him.

"I don't need your sass, Mr. I-Can't-Even-Get-Drunk. Not all of us can heal our bodies instantly."

"You look like you could use some food," Jozu said, slowly, as if he thought over each word carefully before speaking, like always.

"Thank you," Thatch said as if he were making a point, "Marco, why can't you be more like Jozu? He's so much more considerate and charitable. A true gentleman if I ever saw."

"I never claimed to be a gentleman, yoi."

"Well, _that_ is apparent. Jozu, my fine sir, I grow tired of the less civilized company. Let us adjourn ourselves to the nearest eating establishment away from this uncouth youth where we shall partake in something greasy and good for ridding hangovers."

Thatch was set to do just as he proclaimed, but he was stopped by several things.

The first, was a scream.

Looking around, he tried to locate the source, but the hang-over induced haze on his mind was inhibiting his mental functions at the moment.

Second, came a yell.

"Move! Move out of the way!"

Again, he wasn't quite functioning at 100%, he was still trying to find out where the yell came from.

When he finally looked to his friends and saw that they were looking up at the sky, he followed their gazes.

Right as a pair of feet landed in his face.

He was out like a light, hitting the ground in a solid _whump!_ , while Marco and Jozu stared on in bewilderment.

A figure landed on top of Thatch's chest, a wave of pale violet hair falling around them…on top of which sat a hat reading 'Marine'.

"Owww, my butt," they groaned. The Marine gave a quick look around and then seemed to realize where they were.

"Oh my god!" they scrambled up off of the prone pirate; it was a girl, carrying an overloaded messenger bag, wearing a short shirt with the Marine's logo on it and a cap that looked too big for her head under which two heavy braids fell, "Oh geez, I'm sorry, didn't mean to…"

Her voice trailed off when she noticed the stares of the two pirates. Red eyes widened: the men looking at her wore expressions promising several degrees of murder.

Time crunched to a resounding halt as the three stared at each other.

"Oi, girlie."

The purple-haired girl let out a quiet squeak. The one who had addressed her, the shorter of the two, spoke in a terrifying voice—rage thinly concealed by a calm.

"Um, how can I help you?" she asked tentatively; manners were always a must after all.

"That's our friend you landed on."

Oh _god_ , was the only thought she had time for and then the man was lunging at her, a hand raised, and were those flames surrounding his fists?!

She hurried to back up, to avoid the force of rage bearing down on her, and in her usual stroke of luck, she slipped on a letter that had fallen out of her overflowing bag. She fell backwards as the furious man's knuckles barely missed her nose, she could feel the heat of the curious blue flames flickering around his skin and let out another squeak.

He looked surprised that she had dodged his hit, but that was nothing compared to the look on his face when her feet connected with him. You see, her legs had been thrust upwards in her fall, something which she had zero control over as she continued to fall backwards, and his advance had put him right in their path. Her feet hit his shins, knocking him off balance and she landed once again on her backside.

A staggering silence followed as he corrected his stumble and she sat there petrified.

"That," he said slowly, painfully slowly and in an oh-so-deadly tone," was a very big mistake."

She did not think. She did not bother to think as all her instincts screamed at her to run away and to run away _now_. So, she did not hesitate. Before the man could make another move, she was gone, sprinting down the street, scurrying up the side of a building, and fleeing across the roofs, leaving the pirates in stunned silence.

She did not stop running until she reached the Marine base and had burst through its doors, a trail of paper fluttering in after her. Several startled Marines let out yelps as she tried to catch her breath, leaning over her legs and wheezing.

"Hey! What's the big deal?" a Marine Captain strolled up to her, having been drawn to the commotion.

"I…just got attacked…by this crazy person," she panted.

"What? Who was it?" the Captain looked down at her in concern.

"Some…werido with spiky blond hair…he had some tattoo on his chest…and his hands were on fire…"

"Sir!" Another information runner like her burst through the door. Most of the runners were young boys: Marines-in-training, chore boys, apprentices and the like. "Sir, we've just found out that the Whitebeard Pirates have docked at this island, sometime late last night! Their shipped is docked at the other port, but there have been sightings of some crewmembers in town!"

Everyone in the room was as rigid as statues.

The purple-haired girl looked in horror at her fellow runner, putting some things together in her mind.

That tattoo on that guy's chest had been awfully familiar.

"I…" All of the Marines looked at her, the first one to break the silence, "I…um, I may have…well, accidentally knocked out…one of Whitebeard's pirates…"

They flew into a frenzy. She and the other runner were swept off to the side as the Marines geared into action, preparing to move out. Amidst the chaos, they sat back, watching the commotion.

"Did you really beat up one of the Whitebeards?" the young boy next to her asked. He couldn't have been more than fourteen, with his awkward arms and legs and baby-chubbed face.

"Um, I wouldn't say beat up…it was more that he was in the wrong place when I jumped down from the roof," she mumbled, pulling the too-big hat lower over her eyes. She wanted this day to end so that she could go on with her life and pretend it never happened.

"A 'death-from-above' attack?" the younger boy said in awe, looking at her with starry eyes, "So cool!"

She didn't say anything, just nodded and fell into silence. There was probably nothing she could say to this kid to make him understand that it had been a complete accident followed by pure luck that she was still alive.

Her silence did nothing to deter the boy from chattering away.

"You must be really strong to take on a Whitebeard! I can't wait 'til I'm big and strong enough to face pirates, they won't know what hit 'em!" He swung an imaginary sword in a mock battle, "I'll be the strongest Marine on Grand Line, and I'll be an Admiral before you know it!'

She smiled weakly, still feeling faint from her encounter. And all the running.

There had only been a few times she had near-death experiences, and meeting them wasn't exactly something she liked to make a habit of. However, none of those brushes with death had involved other humans—they were mostly incidences with Mother Nature and a result of her own clumsiness. She had never met someone that she was so sure was going to kill her and had every capability to do so. The way that he had looked at her…she shivered in fear. It was very clear that he fell under both of those categories.

Right then and there, she decided that it was in her best interest to leave this island behind.

Effective immediately.

Without another thought, she slipped away unnoticed from the chaos that was the Marine base and started her trek across the city, once again, this time back to her Aero Ship. She had stayed long enough on the island that her Log Pose had set in the couple hours it took. Her food supplies were running low because she hadn't had time to restock, running all over the town, but she would gladly take a few skimpy meals over meeting up with infamous pirates again. In any case, she would take death by starvation over brutal murder, which another encounter with the pirates was sure to end in.

The city-wide alarm went off and she heard cannons in the distance, reaffirming her decision to leave. Taking to the building tops once more, she swiftly made her way to her Ship, which was being held at the other Marine base. It was so close now, just a couple of roof tops away, a hop, skip, and a jump and she'd be out of there.

Just after this building, jump down, start her up and then it's smooth sailing. Well, as smooth as sailing can get on these oceans, she thought to herself. She peered over the ledge and there it was, her Aero Ship, the Tweet-Cheep Aeronaut, affectionately named Tweety Bird, or simply Tweety. She gave a satisfactory huff, glad that the Marines appeared to have left her transport vehicle alone.

Just as she prepared to leap down to the Bird, something landed behind her heavily. She froze as a gust of wind pulled at her braids.

' _Please don't be who I think it is_ ,' she prayed, but deep down, she knew who was going to be behind her when she turned around, judging by her luck. She gave a sigh, this time in resignation. Might as well get this over with.

She straightened with the resolve to make it through whatever came next with a calm and collected demeanor (and most importantly, with her life) and slowly turned to face who she knew it would be: the man from earlier, the man she had pissed off by accident, and who was apparently part of one of the strongest pirate crews the seas had ever known.

He was watching her, smiling.

And it was creepy as hell.

 _'Calm and collected, calm and collected._ '

"Why'd you run off so quickly, girlie? We were having so much fun, yoi," he said. His laid back, hands-in-the-pockets stance did not help her already severely shaken state of mind.

 _'Calm and collected, calm and collected.'_

"Ah, I was running late for an errand. I hope you'll excuse my rudeness earlier, as well as the, um…ahem, accident, I caused with your friend," she said ever-so-politely; there was no way in all of Grand Line she would ever try to smart-ass her way out of this, "And I hope you will excuse me again, but I find I have other engagements. That are far away from here. That I have to get to. Right now."

His menacing chuckle sent a shiver of fear down her back, but she was determined not to show just how terrified and close to a panic attack she was at the moment.

' _Calm and collected, calm and collected_ ,' she chanted over and over.

"I'm sure they can wait, Marine. I think your buddies won't miss you for a few moments."

She looked at him in confusion, her carefully neutral mask forgotten.

"Marine…?" she asked, "What are you talking about, I'm not a Marine…Oh. _Oh_."

She looked in horror down at the shirt she had been given to wear as she ran errands. She felt her hat and a terrible sense of dread washing over her.

"Would you believe me if I said I wasn't a Marine?" she asked, hoping beyond hope that he would.

He laughed again, answering her question with his menacing chuckle.

"Right," she mumbled miserably, "I suppose not."

"So, tell me, Miss Marine, why you thought it was a good idea to attack the Whitebeard Pirates? Are you that confident in your fighting abilities, yoi?" he asked casually, as if they were acquaintances that hadn't seen each other for a while, small talking about the weather.

"Nope, I don't have an ounce of confidence in that area. Completely weak, wouldn't stand a chance against a kitten. No, make that a blind kitten. Definitely not worth your time." There was no use lying; any attempt to convince him of her strength so that he would back down was very likely the stupidest thing anyone and their mother could do.

However, her admittance to her lack of strength seemed to have the opposite desired effect; he raised his eyebrow in challenge, interest sparking in his eyes. That wasn't good.

That was so many levels of _not_ good.

' _Calm and collected_ ,' she reminded herself, a hint of panic in her mind's voice.

"How very interesting," he was leaning slightly forward now, "And yet you were able to book it so quickly over the rooftops. That has to require some strength."

"The art of running away is very different from combat," she responded with a serene aloofness that she did not feel. She was struggling to keep a level head; his gaze was unnerving and that was putting it lightly. Her attempts to avoid piquing his interest seemed to be failing.

"Is it now," he said quietly, rhetorically, "One more question before we get past all these pleasantries. What is your name, yoi?"

 _'Calm and collected, calm and collected.'_

"I believe it's customary to give your own name first when asking for someone's." She was stalling for time, they both knew it, but he went along with it, amusement dancing across his face.

"My name is Marco," he said simply, but there was a note of pride in his voice. Not the vain kind, the kind that was full of well-deserved dignity. He waited for her response.

"My name is Mari. Mari Currie," she bowed formally; not like manners could hurt her at this point. She gave a last ditch effort to get out of this situation, "I do sincerely apologize for hurting your friend. Please know that it was an unfortunate accident."

She faced him, squaring her shoulders. She was going to survive this. Death did not exactly frighten her, but she wasn't too keen to accept its embrace this early on in her journey. And so, she was going to make it out of this encounter alive. There was no other option for her.

Marco noted the shift and finally became serious, the smile slipping away to a set line.

She wondered how she had gotten herself into this situation. Fate, she decided after a moment, was a bitch like that.

She resignedly took a fighting stance.

"I don't suppose that there's any chance convincing you that I'm not worth your time, is there?" she asked half-heartedly.

"No, there's really not," the tall blond chuckled quietly, his stance lazily shifting to match hers, that god-damned creepy smile back on his face; the bastard probably did it on purpose, she thought.

The two faced each other, neither moving, not even seeming to breathe. Finally, he surged forward, a powerful fist raised, a mix of grim amusement and determination on his face.

She moved as quickly as she could, dodging his punch and darting around him. But he was fast, too. He never let her get behind him, spinning to face her and jumping away simultaneously. The blue flames were back, licking up the entirety of his arms and broad shoulders now. She spared half a second to wonder what caused them. What were they? How did he not get burned? What was their source? But, the half second passed and she refocused.

' _Right, trying not to die here.'_

They faced off again, on opposite sides than where they started.

"Is that how you fight? Duck and dodge, never have the guts to throw a punch?" Marco taunted, clearly trying to get a rise out of her.

It worked. Her eyebrows came down in anger and she rushed forward; he grinned that stupid, creepy smile at his success and ran to meet her, ready to get down to the real fight. She prepared to strike him and he prepared to defend himself. He could feel the power and intent she was putting into this punch and he smiled, excited to see just how strong this Marine was. What he didn't expect was for her to dive straight between his legs, slide on the ground, roll, and bounce back up to continue running for the ledge of the building.

Furious at himself for not catching her and falling for her feint, but also that she was trying to run away from a fight, he pursued her. No way was she getting away this time, not now that he knew how fast she could escape over the buildings.

He leapt off the roof and landed solidly on the one below, touching down before shooting off, intent to catch the person sprinting across the tiles. He didn't anticipate that she would be running alongside a sort of metal contraption that looked vaguely like a kayak on wheels. Wondering what on earth was going on, he doubled his speed, his flames starting to take over his arms and become fiery wings. The girl looked behind her and let out one of the small squeaks he had heard earlier, her eyes wide and he smirked. The end of the roof was quickly approaching.

There was no way she could carry that heavy metal thing and land safely on the ground. Marco's feet lifted from the tiled roof as his wings caught the air. He was approaching fast. He was going to make it.

But then, she leaped gracefully into it, a quick arc before she was seated as it continued to roll across the roof, he heard a some sort of engine start over the rush of the wind in his ears, and wing-like protuberances popped out of the sides and it started gaining height.

He faltered, bewildered at the strange thing that was shooting into the air, his prey safely seated in it. He shook himself—if he didn't move now, he was going to lose her. This wasn't time to idle and gawk.

But, as he shot after her, it became very clear that his chances of gaining on her were very slim before she reached the ocean, where he would be vulnerable. Whatever that contraption was, it was fast. He ground to a halt mid-air and watched as the purple-haired girl put distance between them, bitter disappointment burning in his chest.

She looked back to see what the pirate was doing. She was usually safe in the air, but if he had any firearms on him, she might not be in the clear.

However, when she looked back and saw that _he_ was in the air as well, held up by what looked like wings made of that blue fire, she choked on her spit in shock. People didn't _have_ wings and nor were they able to fly.

"What the hell!? How are you doing that!?" she yelled back at him, startled, but wasn't expecting an answer.

It was only then that she noticed that he was a ways back, hovering in the air, large blue wings keeping him airborne. He wasn't pursuing. Almost not believing it, she stared for a few more seconds. But hey, she wasn't one to question her luck. She was alive and that was all that mattered.

Glad to put this island far, far behind her, she sped her Aero Ship forward towards the already sinking sun.

She never wanted to do something like that again. Pirates, Marines, they could fight and squabble all they wanted, she just wanted to travel and not get caught in the cross fire.

But, fortunately, with the rapidly receding island behind her, she wouldn't ever have to deal with them again.

* * *

 **Author's Corner: Hey-a! Well, here we have it the second story! Marco ended up winning against Shanks in the polls (which is now closed, but thanks to everyone who participated!). Plans for this story: If you're expecting another CotC, please expect to be disappointed. This is going to be much, much shorter (maybe 20-30 chapters, idk, that's what I have mapped out so far, but they'll be longer) and updates will be much less frequent (I'm going to try for once every week, because I'm putting a lot more editing into this work). Regardless, I'm still excited to share this story with you! I've had it in the works for a couple years now, like all my stories, and I'm so glad I have time to really work on it now! Please look forward to more!**

 **-jj**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: First Mistake (Year 13, Week 3, Day 1)**

"I think you need a change in career."

They had found each other in some shitty little bar on the hovel of an island known as Jaya. She had been minding her own business on her travels, as usual, and he was on a solo mission for his Captain. And, as usual, they had found some way to run into each other as they had over the many, many years.

She thought it was a quaint little bar from the outside and that's why she stepped inside. He felt right at home. She would have too, but no one cared.

All they saw was the faded Marine hat and that was that.

The moment she stepped through the doors, a silence fell like a dumbbell, hard and heavy, over the bar. By some chance, their eyes met as if they could single each other out in a crowd, and she froze. Then, felt her hat as if confirming it were still on her head. Said a quiet, "Oh, crap."

And that's when the bar exploded into a chaos of angry shouts and and movement.

As one, every single pirate in the bar—and that meant _everyone_ in the bar, because they were all pirates—surged toward her. She wasn't quite sure what happened from that point on. She dodged the first fist that came towards her, which collided with someone else and suddenly, it wasn't just everyone intent on killing her, it was everyone trying to kill everyone else _and_ her.

Either way, the metaphorical 'it' hit the metaphorical 'fan' and it became a free-for-all. In the confusion, she found herself fighting back to back with him, where he made the comment on her choice of employment.

"I think you need to shut your mouth," she retorted.

"Why did you choose to be a Marine, anyway? It seems like so much work with so little reward. No fun at all," he said lightly as he flipped over the head of an oncoming attacker and she was forced to dodge the charging punch from the heavyset man that missed him.

' _Showoff.'_

"I didn't choose to become a Marine, it was a mistake," she pulled a wrench easily the size of her arm out of her back belt loop and swung it in a wide arc, connecting decidedly with several people's jaws, stomachs, or chests.

"So you keep telling me."

"That's because you don't listen, you dick."

* * *

 **(Year 0, Week 0, Day 5)**

She had safely arrived at the next island, maybe a bit low on supplies (a bit low meaning here completely void of any), but safely and all in one piece nonetheless. Maybe she was a bit hungry, but she had dealt with hunger before and it was no trouble now, especially since she had arrived on this particular island.

Feast Island was appropriately named; it boasted many culinary geniuses and a booming agriculture to boot and not a day went by without a plentiful bounty of food during every meal, each with many courses. A certain curly-browed chef would have been right at home and his captain would have considered it a personal paradise, but this wasn't their story. They weren't even born yet.

Anyway, because there was so much food, it was practically free, making it a very popular destination in Grand Line. Mari was looking forward to having her fill, then finally getting a good night's sleep in a real bed. Her Tweety Bird was wonderful in the air, but its sleeping accommodations were less than ideal. However, she had no time for food or rest because the moment her feet touched the island, villagers swarmed her.

"Oh, thank goodness you've come!"  
"You must be the backup!"  
"You have to help, please!"

"…Sorry?" she asked, confused to no end.

"You're here to save us! The Marines said they would send someone as soon as they could!"  
"And you must be very strong to have been sent by yourself, not to mention high ranking if you travel in something like that!"

She looked down at her shirt. She hadn't changed since she left the last island and all its disastrous events behind. She felt her head. Yup, she still had the hat on, too. It had made a great visor against the glaring sun while travelling.

"Oh," was all she could say. What was she supposed to tell them? These people really looked desperate and she couldn't bring herself to get their hopes up and then dash them to pieces.

Just her luck that this would happen.

"Well, please inform me of the situation," she said in the calmest and most authoritative voice she could muster.

She was probably going to regret this, but she had already committed by saying those words. Now, she needed to see it through. If she got in over her head, she could always contact the proper Marines. But for now, she would see what she could do.

The townsfolk proceeded to tell her about how a fearsome crew called the Sweetie Pirates had arrived three days ago, kidnapped some of the top patissiers and confectioners, and had held them captive since, holding them for ransom in return for sweets. Mari raised her eyebrows at the unusual demands of the pirates—wasn't the typical thing to ask for treasure? Gold? Beri? Beautiful women?

Regardless of the atypical ransom fee, it seemed that the locally stationed Marines had failed to gain the upper hand and imprison the pirates, so they had called for reinforcements. From what the townspeople told Mari, they were a fierce and fearsome group, standing two heads taller than most of the men and vicious fighters to top it off.

And so, with the blessings of the people and all eyes trained on her back, she marched into the center of town, growing increasingly nervous. She really wanted to sleep. And eat. And change out of these blasted Marine clothes. As if they hadn't caused her enough trouble already.

She went right up to the building the pirates had barricaded themselves and their hostages in. Was she really about to do this? What had happened to her decision to not get involved in Pirate-Marine struggles not even a week ago? Well, no time to chicken out now.

She gulped down her fear and squared her shoulders, giving herself an appearance of confidence which she sure as hell didn't feel on the inside, and knocked loudly on the door. Her knocks could be heard echoing through the building beyond the door, booming into the silence. A couple heartbeats later, she heard scuffling, muffled voices, and then the door cracked open a fraction of an inch.

The people watched in amazement (from a safe distance, of course) as a conversation passed briefly between the Marine woman and the pirate on the other side of the door, before she was let in. Tense silence followed the closing of the door; they were frightened about what would happen to her. Moments passed and nothing was happening. Then, they jumped as they heard a crash from inside, muffled shouts and yelling, several more crashes and then, silence again. They waited. And waited.

Nearly an hour later, the door slowly creaked open, commanding everyone's attention. They gasped and a wave of murmurs and whispers rippled through the onlookers. The Marine stepped out into the sunlight, followed by a tall, imposing figure that towered over her—the Captain of the Sweetie Pirates.

"Everyone, may I have your attention, please," she called. The townsfolk nervously shuffled from their safe watching spots into the open, "I have had a lengthy discussion with the Sweetie Pirates, and they have come to realize an error in their ways. They would like to formally extend their apology, release their captives, and peacefully part from the island with their deepest regrets and promise to follow the path of good from now on."

The people's whispering increased, confused but awe-filled looks focused the Marine. They had all heard the crashes—it was more than just talking that happened. She must have beaten the pirates into submission so that they would listen to her.

"Wow, she must be super strong."  
"Of course! How else would she have beaten such scary pirates!"  
"But, she's merciful, too! Who would be compassionate enough to spare pirates?"  
"Only someone with a big and caring heart."  
"And she's super cute!"  
"What a superb Marine! She handled that with such class!"

When the hostages were finally let out, everyone cheered. They watched the pirates take off, glad to see them gone. Some questioned why the Marine was letting them go rather than capturing them, but her parting words to the now former-pirate crew put the people's suspicions at ease.

"Don't make trouble now, you hear? Or you _will_ see me again, you can be sure of that. Also, lay off the sweets, alright? Eat healthier otherwise you will die before you're fifty."

Her stern voice had many people swooning. Such a powerful woman, yet not above giving out helpful and caring advice. Truly an excellent Marine she was!

After the ship had disappeared over the horizon, she was ushered to the island's Marine base. She was greeted with more awe and admiration from the soldiers there, amazed as they were to see one woman take out an entire crew of pirates. From the lobby, she was led to the Captain's office.

He was a middle-aged man, with peppered hair, white around his temples, with a sharply trimmed mustache and beard to match. He held a very formal air as he greeted Mari.

"Can't tell you how pleased I am that you arrived so soon, ma'am," he said, "We truly thought the worst for the prisoners after three days of being held hostage, and we're overjoyed to see them unharmed and well."

"Yes, indeed," she nodded, "But please, no need to stand on formality with all this ma'am business. Just Mari is fine. Mari Currie."

"Of course, Miss Mari. Though you were probably told in your briefing, I am Captain Qualiflour Jarrett. Now, I am sure you will require all the proper reports to fill out?"

"As much as I would love to, Captain, I find that some good rest is in order. I have been travelling for some time now. A bit of food would be appreciated as well."

"Oh, how inconsiderate of me!" the Captain said, smiling graciously at her, "Of course you would have just come from your journey. I shall have my men arrange a room for you and for some food to be brought up."

"Much obliged," she smiled in return.

"I will also fill out the paperwork in your absence. You can elaborate on your performance in the summary later, if you choose."

"No need to bore anyone with details. I came to do my job, nothing more. I'm sure your summary will be more than enough."

"Very well, I will leave it for you to review later then. Now, I'll have one of the lads show you to a room."

Mari gratefully followed one of the Marines to a plain but reasonably comfortable room, something you would expect from the Marines. She dismissed him and as soon as he left, her knees collapsed under her.

She couldn't believe she pulled that off.

The Marines and townspeople alike seemed to think that she single-handedly defeated a group of terrible pirates, but that was so far from the truth she wanted to laugh. Or cry. That would have been appropriate, too. She thought so.

She had entered the pirate's lair, fully expecting to be killed the moment she stepped through the doorway. She had not expected to stumble over a thick rug, trip for several steps, fall into one of the abnormally tall and intimidating pirates, and knock them over. What she had suspected even _less_ , was for a kid to tumble out of a long coat, which they had been wearing to cover the stilts they walked on. Some of the other 'pirates' in the room went to attack Mari, all yelling at her, but in her haste to get up, she tripped on the long coat of the fallen pirate straight into the other ones, causing a domino effect. What that left her with was several children in a pile, a tangle of long coats and stilts.

It seemed that the 'fearsome pirate crew' was, quite literally, a bunch of kids. Singling out the 'Captain' of the Sweetie Pirates, she stood over him, crossing her arms in her best imitation of a displeased mother, and it must have worked, because the kids all cowered back.

"You're in a lot of trouble, young man," she said very sternly.

That was all it took. The children started crying for her not to be mad at them, that they didn't mean to hurt anyone, they had just wanted to eat a lot of dessert and candy from the island. From what she understood, they had been keeping the kidnapped people hostage and had them baking and making sweets the entire three days they had been captive. Nothing else.

After giving the group of 'pirates' a light spank or slap on the wrist as punishment, she sat them down and talked about the consequences of their actions, giving them a choice: to either continue playing pirates, in which case she would arrest them on the spot and they would go to a very bad place for 'time-out', or they could release the people, leave the island, and give up pirating.

They had chosen the latter, and with that settled, she gave them all a pat on the head and promised she would clear things up with the villagers. Their only request was that it remain unknown that they were children, because they wanted to look like 'cool adults'. She didn't bother to argue because she was extremely fatigued and hungry at that point, and the sooner she got it over with, the sooner she could eat and promptly fall asleep.

So, she had the 'Captain' follow her outside and she made her announcement. She didn't go into great detail, letting the people fill in the lines as they saw fit. It didn't matter to her either way, the problem was solved and all she wanted now was food.

Picking herself off the floor of the Marine sleeping quarter, she dragged herself onto the bed and sunk into it, sighing in exhaustion. She probably needed to leave the island soon, before the real Marine enforcements arrived, or even worse, before a certain crew of pirates had time to catch up. She didn't want to think about how another encounter with them would end up.

But, that would have to wait. Sleep was calling her and she had every intention to answer it.

This was the first of many mistakes.

* * *

 **(Year 0, Week 0, Day 6)**

The past couple of days had not been fun for Marco. As if it hadn't been bad enough that he had let someone escape from him, he had his entire family to tease him relentlessly for it, even Thatch, who in Marco's opinion, had no right to speak seeing as he was the one who got knocked out by the same girl plaguing his thoughts.

"Can't even catch one little Marine Mouse, eh there, Marco?"  
"Didn't know that the Marines had so many apprentices that could hold their own against a one of us, especially when they're so highly ranked."  
"How was it she escaped again? Flew into the sunset on a magical flying device?"

Marco's eyebrow twitched.

"Piss off, yoi."

His brothers all dispersed, howling with laughter and slapping each other on the backs.

Many years in the future, First Commander Marco the Phoenix would often be commended for his nearly unflappable demeanor and seemingly infinite patience. However, at this point in time, he was more likely to be described as passionate and maybe just a bit hot-headed. He was fiercely loyal to his family, never hesitating to defend them, but he could be reckless sometimes, eager to seek out challenges. When that Marine girl had fallen out of the blue and landed on Thatch, of course his first instinct was to destroy whoever had hurt his brother. When he ran into her the second time, he was curious what kind of challenge she could present him. He was annoyed that she had given him the slip before he could find out. He lounged on the deck of the Moby Dick, becoming more irritated as he thought about it.

"Oi, listen up, brats!"

The booming voice of his father rang out over the deck, bringing everyone's attention to their Captain. Marco lazily turned his head in his Pops' direction; he was seated in his large chair as usual, the ship's navigator at his side.

"I've been told we're on course for Feast Island. Should arrive there later this evening. Hope you have you appetites up," the formidable man laughed heartily. Cheers went up from the pirates before they went about their business. Marco rested his head back on his hand, elbow propped up on the wooden planks.

Maybe the island they were headed toward would take his mind off of his irritation.

They arrived soon enough and the pirates rushed off into the city, to quickly gather supplies they needed so that they would be free for the rest of their stay.

Marco, being one of the Lieutenants of the First Division, was high enough in command that he didn't have to do any of that, so he was already leisurely wandering around the city. There seemed to be more cheer than usual on the friendly little island. When he stopped to ask a passing woman carrying a tray of freshly baked bread what was going on, she was more than happy to tell him.

"That would be the Marine lady, of course! She's leaving very soon now, and we want to see her off," the round, cheery-faced woman gushed, "Such a noble young lady, insisted that we didn't use no titles with her, even though she saved the whole island! You'll be hard pressed to find that kind of humility in people these days, that you will, and when they're of lesser status, no less."

"Marine lady?" he questioned. They knew that there was a Marine base on this island, but they didn't think that anyone too significant was stationed on it. No one ranked higher than Captain, or so their intelligence had informed them.

"Oh yes, she swooped in yesterday and saved our lives from some vicious pirates," the woman eagerly informed him, enthusiastic to talk about it, "Took on the whole lot of 'em all by herself, had them wiped out in mere seconds! They fled the island with their tails between their legs, they did, ha! She has to leave in little less than an hour, so dedicated to her job she is. So naturally we'll be seeing her off. How she gets around in that funny little thing, I have no idea, but she got here fast, so that's all that matters."

"Funny little thing?" Marco's face became carefully blank. No, it couldn't be.

"Yes, she has this fantastic machine that flies. Flies! Can you believe it? Must be awfully lonely by herself, but she seems like a busy woman, being such an outstanding Marine. And at such a young age, too!"

She seemed set to go on forever about the wonderful 'Marine lady', but Marco cut her off.

"Where is she taking off from?" he asked, trying to keep his building excitement out of his voice.

"The dock on the other side of town. Going to catch a look for yourself?" she smiled warmly.

"Yeah, you could say that."

He raced to the opposite side of the port town, barely containing himself from taking to the skies to get there faster—Oyaji didn't want them to cause too much of a ruckus. Yet. The buildings fell away as he neared the docks, but he was forced to stop by the large crowd of people surrounding it. He elbowed his way through, and if he stepped on some toes, he didn't apologize. Finally, he saw a head of pale violet, just peeking between the tightly packed bodies. Wow, she was really small. He didn't notice that before.

"Really, you all have been very kind, but I really must go," she said, trying to disentangle herself from the people grabbing at her: her clothes, her hair, her long, crisp white coat with the word 'Justice' on the back in bold.

"Please don't go!"  
"I'm naming my firstborn in your honor!"  
"Marry me!"

There were both men and women yelling that last one.

He doubled his efforts to break through the throng of people, but she was already getting into her bizarre...whatever the hell that was and it was rolling down the planks of the wharf. His only chance slipping away quickly, he decided to throw subtlety out the window and just charge ahead.

It was almost uncanny the way that the 'wings' of her contraption spread at the same moment his wings materialized, pushing aside startled people with their harmless iridescent flames. He chose not to dwell on it. He had prey to catch.

Not hesitating this time, he kicked off of the ground powerfully and with a burst of speed, was after her; she wasn't getting away this time.

Except she did.

Once again, he underestimated the speed of her little flying boat, and before he knew it, she was farther away than he could reach without putting himself at risk, not even aware how close she had been to getting caught. For the second time in a week, he felt that disappoint that left a bitter taste in his throat, and maybe just a little shamed with himself for allowing this to happen a second time. He was a Whitebeard pirate. He didn't accept failure as an option, especially not one such as himself. He was young, but he showed the most promise in the crew and had risen to the rank of Lieutenant, with the strong promise of becoming a Commander in the near future, before he was twenty.

He didn't _lose_ fights, even if they were ones where his opponent cowardly ran away. He always was able to pursue them and end it. Always.

He was bitter that she didn't take their fight seriously, and even more so that it seemed he had finally found someone that could outpace him in the air. It had always been his pride that he could go where so many people couldn't. And now this Marine brat had showed up out of no where and one upped him with a stupid machine.

It was then and there that he made a vow that she wouldn't outdo him ever again. And if she did, it wouldn't be for long. With that thought firmly in his mind, he angled himself back towards the flagship, letting the winds carry him back to the place that had become his home and comforting himself with thoughts and plans of revenge.

* * *

 **Author's Corner: Hey-a! So, I didn't lie when I said this story will be updated ~once a week. Idk, I just feel like when you start a story, you should give the reader something substantial that gives some idea of what the rest of the story is, rather than just the introduction, which can be rough to get through sometimes, and might turn some people off from the story if they don't see more of what the author has to offer. So, have a second chapter as a little 'Congrats on getting the second story up!' gift from me to you :D**

 **Some thoughts on this story. It may or may not be bumped up to M in the future, because the guidelines are a little weird I think? Idk, I'll probably allude to some sexy times in my upcoming stories? But I feel weird whenever I tried writing sex scenes in the past, so I don't do those, just hint at them in my writing. It's weird, 'cause the M rating says that if you include non-explicit mature topics, or just imply it, it needs to be rated M. Well, idk, we'll see!**

 **Anyway, thanks for reading, please stick around!**

 **-jj**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: First Contact (Year 16, Week 43, Day 2)**

"This is familiar."

It was a Winter Island this time, and they had been caught right in the thick of a fierce snowstorm together. Having no other alternative, they had been forced to shelter down and wait it out. Now they were huddled together, his arms wrapped around the both of them, the warm yet harmless, gently dancing flames helping to ward off the biting chill. Her head rested on his chest as she half-laid on top of him and he buried his nose into her thick hair.

"Is it? But, I don't remember us being friends last time," she noted tiredly, watching his mysterious fire flit and flicker around them, eyes heavy with sleep, "Let alone..."

He chuckled quietly as she trailed off, not wanting to finish, making her head rise and fall with the movement of his chest; they were both tired, but it was a sleepy sort of comfort that had settled around almost made them reluctant to think that they would have to move when the storm cleared, to brush off the drowsy warm dust of whatever haze had them and go on with their respective lives.

"True," he said, allowing her the grace of ignoring what she almost admitted, nosing his way through the waves of hair that were loose for once until he found her neck and nestled into it, "But I think I much prefer this."

"Hm," was all she said in return, lightly shadowing the blue that flickered in and out of existence with her fingers in a small sort of game.

"Hm," he echoed, and neither said anything else.

* * *

 **(Year 0, Week 2, Day 0)**

To say she was unprepared probably could have contended for first place as the biggest understatement ever to be stated. Well, maybe not first. Maybe top ten. She didn't care either way: all she knew was that it was fucking _cold_.

She would never have imagined in her most horrible nightmares that temperatures like this could exist in the world, and she was questioning what ever made her think she had a lick of a chance travelling Grand Line when hardly two months into her journey, she had been proven so sorely, laughably under-prepared for it.

It was a Winter Island, and of course she had read about them, but never had she experienced one. Sure, her Island had crazy weather that came in from the sea once in a while, but the temperature was always mild and never varied too greatly throughout the year.

This, however. _This_. This was unbearable.

As soon as she had landed, she made a mad dash for the nearest building, hoping to any deity that it would be a clothing store, or at the very least it would have people with sympathetic hearts and extra winter gear they'd be willing to lend her, because even though she now had a sharp white coat that the Marines back on Feast Island had given her on her departure, it was in no way suitable for the harsh cold of this Island. But, it was all she had that was remotely protective against the cold, so when she barged into the first shelter she could find, that was what she was wearing. Not to mention the Marine cap. She had sorta become used to wearing it since that fateful day two weeks ago and forgot it was there most of the time.

In retrospect, she could understand how this would cause a misunderstanding.

"Ah, Marine, good you're here," an older woman with a stocky build and steely grey hair addressed her; an older woman who just so happened to be wearing a thick winter coat with the seagull of the Marines printed largely across the chest, "They told me you'd be coming soon."

Mari pointed at herself meekly, as if to ask if she was referring to her and not someone else.

"Yes, you!" the woman snapped, "Who else do you see in here? Now, I have all of the provisions for your base, all you need is to pack them up and you'll be good. Since there's only three people up there including you, don't expect grand meals, we have rations to stick to here."

It took all of three seconds for her to figure out what was happening. The large map on the wall behind the woman's desk displayed the Island they were on; ' _Wulfhowell_ _Island, how original_ ' she thought briefly when she saw the name printed on it; two locations were marked in bold compared to the others, the port town she was in right now, a spot on the side of the mountain in the center of the island; both had the blue seagull painted above them; the woman said provisions, said she was expecting someone; she thought Mari had come to deliver rations to the mountain-side base.

She straightened up, tucking her timidness behind a professional attitude.

"I understand. Please show me to the delivery and I will be on my way," she said, all the while, dying on the inside and cursing her luck just a little more.

"That's more like it," the Marine said briskly, "Follow me."

"Thank you for your hard work."

It wasn't like manners could kill her now, even if she was miserable.

* * *

"This is miserable."

"Hear, hear."

They had arrived at a bleak, wind-stripped rock of an Island in the late afternoon. They had drawn straws to see who would be the unluckies that would venture out into onto the island that was experiencing a blizzard to stock up on any supplies they needed (the food stores were still full from Feast Island, but they needed other things: medical supplies, paper and ink, toilet paper, little colorful umbrellas to put in cocktails—important things) but it finally came down to those who were most resilient to the weather. People who had grown up on Winter Islands, people who had more...body mass, people who had convenient Devil Fruits that helped keep them warmer than the average person.

And so it was that Marco found himself in the group of people donning heavy coats and snowshoes and trudging their way off the enormous ship, because while his fire didn't burn hot, the flames of his Devil Fruit emanated a soft warmth that went a long way towards battling the cold.

"Besides," Thatch smacked his shoulder soundly as he left, his brother hardly looking humanoid underneath the many blankets he had huddled himself under; although curiously enough, the rise of his pompadour held against the heavy covers on his head and made him look very silly indeed, "If you get frostbite, you can just use your all-magical, mystical fire-turkey powers and you'll be good."

After some knocking on doors only to be answered by villagers that wanted him to leave quickly before he let the cold in, he discovered that the items Cherie, the head doctor on the Moby Dick, had requested were only to be found at the Marine base up the mountain rising above the village, vaguely formed like a wolf howling at the moon for which the island was named.

' _How original,'_ he mused as climbed up to a roof to get a good place to take off from and kicked off.

He had informed his family where he was going, and didn't know how long it would take so told them not to wait up for him, but he wanted to get this done quickly; cold-resistant though his Phoenix form may be, he himself was not impervious to the freezing, stinging air and looked forward to being back on board, maybe close by the kitchens where the ovens made the room warm and toasty.

What he hadn't expected was the storm to be so strong. The winds howled and whipped at him as he struggled to fly up the mountain. Powerful as he was, there was no muscling his way through nature, not this time, and he was forced to land and hike the rest of the way.

What he expected even less was to take hardly two steps and hear something metallic give out a muted _clunk!_

A quiet yelp, muffled. He stared down, baffled at the patch of snow he had just stepped on, trying to figure out what was below. Something could be heard shuffling under the white blanket until a metal flap-like thing lifted before him, pushing aside the snow.

"Better not be some god damn bear…" A head of purple hair poked out from beneath the metal door and found themselves looking up at him flatly, "…On second thought, maybe a bear isn't so bad."

They stared at each other for what seemed an eternity as the blinding snow fell in torrents over them, neither of them quite believing who they had stumbled upon. Literally, in this case.

"What are you doing here?" she finally asked guardedly.

"Taking an afternoon stroll," he said sarcastically. It would have been much more impressive if a gust of wind hadn't made him shiver just then.

She stared at up at him, trying to read something in his face, until another strong wind rattled him once again. She sighed, coming to some sort of decision with herself and pushed the metal flap up more, looking up at him with a blank expectancy.

"…What, yoi?" He looked down at her, puzzled at what she wanted from him.

"Well, get in here unless you want to freeze to death," she snapped.

Hesitantly, he slid down next to her as she shuffled aside to make room for him in the cramped space she was in. Taking a quick note of where he was, it was with a slight shock that he realized that they were underneath her odd flying machine. Its wings, what he had thought were the metal doors leading into the tight burrow, formed a small enclosure that blocked the wind and snow, and she had put a tarp on the ground so that she wasn't sitting on the compacted ice. A tiny sputtering fire in a glass bowl lit the space, a small soup pot and coffee pot dangling over it.

She scooted over as far as the area would allow, giving him all the space she could. Their legs still brushed despite her attempt to make herself as small as possible.

"I must say, never thought I'd bunker with a Marine in the middle of a snow storm," he joked dryly, settling down cross-legged.

She gave him a funny look.

"I'm not a Marine."

He snorted.

"Yeah, right, and the Marines just hand out their jackets nowadays," he nodded at her apparel, the trademark word 'Justice' bold on the back.

"They might as well be," she grumbled.

They sat in silence, facing each other over the fire, neither budging. The soup pot started to bubble over and Mari glanced down. She got out two bowls from the cockpit that was hanging upside down above them and grabbed the spoon she had been using to stir the soup, serving out the thick, steaming stew evenly. Holding one out to Marco, she rummaged around again for some spoons.

When he didn't take the offered bowl, she shot him a look of confusion, which he was returned with a careful, calculating look.

"Not hungry?" she asked, holding his bowl further towards him.

"No."

"More for me then," she shrugged, not particularly caring if he wanted to be paranoid; but she still set it to the side.

Mari was not in the best of moods: being given a job that had nothing to do with her, being trapped in a blizzard, the freezing cold, and happening upon a man—was he a man? She hadn't gotten a good look at him before, but now that they were closer, he didn't look much older than her—who had attempted to kill her just over two weeks ago was not putting her in the best of spirits. It was either some mean joke or cruel luck, and she didn't think much of it.

But at that moment, the soup was warm and holding the bowl finally brought back feeling to her fingers. Sparing a little smile, she cradled the bowl in her hands and savored its warmth before drinking down the rest without a spoon. She placed the empty bowl off to the side and checked the coffee pot over the fire—it would be ready soon. Reaching again into the cockpit, she grabbed a mug, a well-worn hardcover book, and a blanket. Settling down with the blanket wrapped firmly around her, she poured herself a generous cup of coffee and cracked open the book.

She hadn't even read two sentences when her unexpected guest spoke up.

"You seem quite prepared."

She spared him only a brief glance.

"No, actually."

She went back to her book.

He raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't deem it worth his time to ask further and so they fell into a silence only broken by the occasional rustle of a turning page or crackling of the fire.

As the day wore on, turning to dusk, and it was still storming, he felt himself growing dangerously sleepy. He noticed she would steal glances at him up from her book every so often, when she didn't think he was looking. This put him on alert, and he tried to remain tense and at attention, but he was tired. So, when she slammed the book shut, he could be forgiven for jolting upright from where he had been almost falling asleep, ready for any sign of attack.

"How do you fly?"

"…What?" Caught off guard, he didn't really grasp what is was she asked.

"How do you fly?" Mari repeated her question, settling her book on her knee and fixing him with a stern eye, "What were those blue flames I saw around you?"

"It's my Devil Fruit."

"Devil Fruit? What is that?"

"You don't know what Devil Fruits are?" he settled back against the wing, hoping that she didn't notice him jump and trying to play it off casually by stretching his arms over his head and getting comfortable.

She swelled with embarrassment when he cocked an eyebrow at her, but at didn't try to cover up her lack of knowledge.

"No."

"They're fruits that grant whoever eats one powers."

She stared at him, skeptical. "That sounds like a fairy tale."

He held one of his hands to her and let blue flames overtake it, making her squeak and jump back in surprise only to hit her head. But while she rubbed her head, trying to massage away the pain, she caught sight of it again, stilled and gazed at it, captivated.

"That doesn't burn you?"

"No. It's part of me. It _is_ me," he let the flames lick up his arm, "My flames don't burn anyway."

"Huh?" her head tilted to the side and he was reminded of a curious dog for a moment as her eyes followed the fire up his arm, "What kind of fire powers are those that don't even burn? Kinda pointless, don't you think?"

"I'm a phoenix."

"You mean like that mythical bird?" she gave him another disbelieving look.

"Exactly, yoi," he said simply.

"So…you can fly…because of a fruit."She slipped into a quiet, working out things in her head, her brows knitting together sometimes as she thought; when she looked back to him, he didn't expect the smile she gave, "If I hadn't seen it, I might not believe it. That's incredible, I'm even a bit jealous."

"You've really never seen a person with Devil Fruit Abilities before?"

"No. I wonder where I can find one," she contemplated out loud, pouring herself another coffee, "I wouldn't mind being able to fly freely."

He watched her thoughtfully as she blew on her coffee and took a small sip; the air between them seemed...more relaxed now. He didn't know if that was a good thing.

"You wouldn't be able to swim."

"Hm?"

"If you eat a Devil Fruit, you become weak to the sea. You gain powers, but you lose all of your strength when you're in water." He wasn't sure why he was telling her this. Marines were enemies. You didn't go around freely telling them your ultimate weakness. But she seemed so genuinely interested and fascinated, soaking in his every word, that he didn't feel like he was giving away his weakness rather than feeding a curious spark that was almost childlike in its wonder. He reasoned that Devil Fruits were common knowledge in Grand Line, so she probably would have discovered this sooner or later.

"Really? But, that's so interesting! Is it limited to the sea or can it be any body of water? Do you have to be fully submerged for you to lose strength, or do you step in a puddle and _bam!_ you're down? Why water? What is it that you're weak to it?" she puzzled over this, easing his concern that using this against him was the last thing on her mind.

And since they had nothing else to do and he needed to stay awake, he told her about the legends of Devil Fruits. The myths, the years of research, the powerful ones he had seen through the years, as well as the most ridiculous ones. He even found himself sharing small laughs with the girl.

They talked through the night. He finally caved in and had that soup. Maybe a cup of coffee or two.

Sometime in the early hours of morning (he had an uncanny sense of time ever since he ate his Devil Fruit), the young fire that had kept them company burned out, leaving them with only a lantern to wash them in a faint glow, and the cold started to creep back in, and they had fallen silent for a while.

"Oi, don't fall asleep on me."

At the sound of his voice, she barely managed to lift her head from where it had been drooping down onto her chest, eyes slowly slipping shut.

"'M not tired," she mumbled, wrapping her blanket more tightly around her, "Not t'all."

"…Can't feel my fingers." The whisper was muted by the blanket she pulled up to her nose, so that he almost missed it.

"Don't you have any better clothes for the snow?" he asked; that Marine's coat looked flimsy and the blanket pulled tight around her looked worn-thin—hardly the equipment for a snowstorm.

The sparse blanket rose and fell with her shoulders as she shrugged.

"Never been on a Winter island before."

It was probably the lack of sleep. At least that's what he told himself as he unfolded his wings and let them fill their confinement; she watched him silently with dark eyes that reflected the animated light, deep red against burning blue, as the wings wrapped behind her, settling over her hunched shoulders. They didn't say another word as they sat there, facing each other.

The storm raged on outside.

* * *

 **(Year 0, Week 2, Day 1)**

She burrowed her way out of the snow that had piled over them until she stood in the pale morning light that made the fresh-fallen snow glisten harmlessly. She knew better now. Turning back to her buried ship, she sighed wearily. It was going to be a lot of digging to get the Tweety out.

Ignoring the pirate that had crawled out after her, she took a step forward to begin digging, slipped, and fell face-first into the powdery snow, coincidentally missing a flaming fist that went over her head. Turning onto her back, she goggled up a him like he was crazy.

"What the hell are you doing?" she yelped, scrambling back to avoid his foot that pounded through the snow in front of her.

"Picking up where we left off," he replied nonchalantly.

"Are you fucking serious?" she squeaked, her faux composure that she had kept through the night entirely gone, "This is so not the time or place."

"Why not, yoi?"

"Oddly enough," she grounded out through clenched teeth, standing up now that he wasn't attacking her, "I have things to do that don't involve fighting pirates that could crush me to a pulp as well as a strong desire to. I'm busy, so would you kindly piss off?"

She made to be impressive and turn around, fully intent on getting her Tweety Bird out, but she fell once again, avoiding another punch.

"What is your _damage?"_ she snapped at him, albeit squeakily.

"We never finished our fight," he said, seriously this time.

"What fight?" she huffed out, ducking to avoid a kick, "That implies that there were two willing participants of relatively equal standing engaging in combat. You seem not to remember, but I clearly told you how weak I was and then ran away. Twice."

Her foot caught on the rudder that stuck out of the snow as she stepped backwards and she went tumbling over it.

 _"Fuck,"_ she groaned; he leaned curiously over her when she didn't get up, "What a fantastic day this is shaping up to be. Look here, you god damn creep, maybe _you_ have leisure time to roll around in the snow, but I've got places to be, but I can't go any where without Tweety Bird and digging her up will take hours."

"Tweety Bird, yoi?" he stopped short in his advance and she glared up at him from her seat on the snow, where the white flakes had tangled themselves into her hair.

"Yes, my Aero Ship, the Tweet-Cheep Aeronaut. In case you didn't notice, she's sort of buried right now, so I don't have time for you."

He eyed the flying machine's tail sticking out of the ground, before he grabbed it and with one effortless tug, pulled it until it rested on top of the snow rather than beneath it. Mari stared at him, dumbfounded.

"We're even now," he stated when she continued to look at him in confusion.

"Uhm...well, thanks. I guess," she said awkwardly, then jumped up with a squeak, "Cold, cold, that's very cold!"

Brushing off the snow on her pants, she knelt by her ship, pull some kind of lever Marco couldn't see and the wings snapped to the side, then another that made ski-like legs pop out. She rolled it over until it was right-side up, then pulled the wings out again before she looked at him.

"Well, uh...bye?" she coughed uncomfortably and scrambled into her ship, pulling her hat more firmly over her head, "You never said what you're doing out here, but you'd probably get to some actual shelter before another storm hits. I'm going up the mountain, sooo...see you never."

Before he could respond, a gust of steam burst from the ship and it jolted forward, gliding across the snow. He watched it gain air, and quickly followed, and grin forming on his face.

He might as well have some fun.

* * *

Mari had landed at the mountain Marine base safely, with no further complications, and thought she was in the clear until something landed behind her. Whirling around, she saw the ever-smug bastard that had haunted her the past two weeks, creepy smirk and all. Before she could yell at him for being a stalker, the door to the balcony she landed on burst open and a couple of young Marines burst through, tripping over themselves to get to her. Thinking fast, she had whipped off her hat and shoved it over his head (she actually had to jump to reach the top of his head, just another thing on the growing list of reasons why she didn't like him—too tall) and yanked it over his eyes.

"Oh thank goodness!"  
"Food!

The two men, maybe their mid-twenties threw themselves at Mari's feet while the woman, tall and lean with short inky hair looked over the Aeroship.

"Wow, how rad!" she marveled before turning to Mari, "We're so glad you could make it, we weren't sure if Ruth got our message before our den-den mushi caught a cold. Poor thing's out of commission for the moment, but now we know she got our message about being stuck here. You must be the people she sent to deliver the rations!"

"Uhhhhhh," Mari lifted her leg which still had a sobbing man at the end of it, before she got it together, pulling on her professional face, "Yes, Ruth-san sent us. We have the packages for you.

She pulled out the supplies 'Ruth' had given her and handed them over. The Marine woman had to snatch it out of the men's grasps and hit their heads to keep them from tearing it apart.

"Down!" she barked, "Ah, sorry, these nerds get a bit eager sometimes."

"Only because we haven't had coffee in days, Cap'n!" the lankier and probably younger of the two men whined.  
"It's hard to concentrate on reports without it!" the other cried as well.

The Captain tossed a bag of beans to them and they scurried inside to get a pot of coffee going.

"Well, thank you so much," she beamed, "Do you two need anything from up here before you go back?"

"Yes, we need some medical supplies," Marco cut in, dodging a glare and a subtle foot stomp Mari aimed at him and handing the Captain his list.

She nodded and followed her subordinates inside to round up what he needed; the moment she disappeared, Mari rounded on him.

"You need to stop following me," she growled, pointing a finger at his face that only came level with his chest, "I'll call the Marines on you."

She spun on her heel sharply, climbed into her ship, and he grinned; it seemed like he had found someone who was fun to poke fun at.

"Want your hat, girlie?" he held it out to her as she settled down.

"Yes, and stop calling me that! I'm seventeen, I'm not some kid," she snatched it back with a huff and pulled it over her head.

"Really, yoi? I thought you were twelve or something."

"Oh, fuck off," she said, checking over some things on her ship and preparing it, then shooting him one last glare, "Good day. I don't ever want to see you again."

He watched her fly off in amusement.

"See you around, then."

* * *

 **Author's Corner: Hey-a! Damn, JJ back at it again w/ the late updates and it's only the 2nd week. Anyway, just wanted to thank you all for an amazing start to this story! It's gotten amazing feedback already, and I'll be going through and answering reviews, but thank you all so much! I hope you stick around :D**

 **-jj**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: First Fall (Year 22, Week 32, Day 1)**

He came to with someone gently patting his face. He jolted upright, or at least tried to, but they held down his shoulders and quietly told him to settle down.

"Easy, easy," he heard them say, "You really took a thrashing, kiddo."

He squeezed his eyes tighter before opening them to see a familiar face surrounded by waves of purple. He shut his eyes again.

"Hey," he ground out, "Long time no see."

He coughed a bit and felt something wet come up from his lungs. That probably wasn't good. She was right: he really had gotten the thrashing of his life, and goddamnit, that pirate brat had escaped. That Strawhat was either exceptionally lucky, or it was an extraordinary string of coincidences to be saved by lightning and then Dragon of all people, but he had lost terrifically for the first time in a long time. It hurt a lot worse than he remembered.

"Yeah," she said softly, "I got some medical people on the way. But it's a good thing I found you. Saw the end of the fight."

His teeth gritted together.

"What was _that man_ doing here?"

"Hey, hey. Don't do that," she chided, "Worry about it later when your not coughing up blood. Now, come on—up you get, brat."

With some pained grunting on his part, he managed to sit up and finally got a proper look at her. Her hair was maybe a little lighter, and if it wasn't raining he probably could have seen the beginnings of silver hairs in her thick braids. There were small crinkles at the corner of her eyes, her skin was more tanned and weather beaten than he remembered. It had been nearly ten years after all. She still had the ratty old hat though and her red eyes that were still sharp watched him with muted concern.

"Hey," he said again.

A small smile quirked one side of her mouth before disappearing.

"Hey there, Smokie," she said.

* * *

 **(Year 0, Week 3, Day 2)**

She kneeled in front of a fountain that stood proudly in the middle of the town square, arms raised to the sun as sweat trickled down her forehead and beaded down the back of her shirt. She could feel the beads roll between her shoulder blades and she had never been more happy to sweat.

"Sweet blessed heat," she nearly moaned in reverence, "Humanity! This is truly how you are meant to live: slightly damp and blissfully warm!"

People stared oddly at the girl who was all but kissing the sun-baked cobblestone of the street but ultimately decided that she wasn't hurting anyone, making her none of their business, and walked along with their lives. One woman though, older and stooped over who looked like the type to spontaneously give you a homemade cookie and a pinch on the cheek, took it upon herself to hobble over to see if this young woman needed to be committed to a hospital. Or mental institute.

"Are you quite alright, dear?" she asked the purple-haired girl, who started and quickly got to her feet, pulling on her hat.

"Uh, yes, thank you for asking," she said briskly, and the elder woman gave her a smile with teeth that reminded her of a Yagara Bull's.

"Why that's so good to hear. Can't tell you how many visitors we get 'round here that end up with heat stroke. Gotta be careful! But, you're a Marine, are you?" the lady asked, noting Mari's hat.

"Uhhhhhhhh," said Mari, mentally kicking herself in her non-Yagara Bull-like teeth that she still hadn't gotten rid of the fucking hat, "Yes."

"Isn't that nice?" she smiled, and _god_ the Yagara-likeness was uncanny, "I personally always felt like us womenfolk are too weak for jobs like that, but good for you."

Mari stared blankly at her for a moment before she turned on her heel and started walking away, the old woman smiling vaguely and somewhat confusedly after her. She didn't have time for kneeling around and praising the heat (as wonderful as it was after that godforsaken Winter Island) or old ladies and their Yagara Bull smiles: she needed to find a tools shop. The Tweety needed a check up after enduring the horrible weather of Wulfhowell Island and she had to get her hands on a few tools she had short-shortsightedly not brought with her, and pick up some more fuel. However, she was having a difficult time finding anything in this town. The buildings were all tall and narrow, packed in with each other side by side in what could only be a fire hazard, and the streets were impossibly convoluted, some so small and squished between the buildings that they seemed like after thoughts, and none of them seemed to go the same direction, overlapping with each other at random intervals. Overall, it seemed like the people who had built the town had thrown down the streets blindly and hoped for the best and Mari _hated_ it as she wandered around with increasing frustration.

Just as she was about to explode and ask the nearest person where in the Four Blues she could find a tools shop, the store front she was walking past burst open and she barely had any time to look to the side before a young boy was being thrown on top of her by a very ruffled-looking shopkeeper.

"Stop trying to weedle cigarettes from me, you shitty brat!" the man yelled, large moustache bristling with his rage as he reached behind him and yanked a young girl out of his shop by her arm, "You too, go on, scram!"

On instinct, Mari had caught the white-haired boy and held him away from her under his armpits while he squirmed and tried to get down, yelling at her to let him go. The shop keeper caught sight of her peeking around the kid and turned on her.

"Hey! You, Marine! Yeah you, keep your damn punks in line," he growled, shaking a fist at her, "I don't care if they're with the Marines, teach them some discipline."

"Yes, sir, sorry for the trouble they caused."

With that final threat, the door of the shop slammed shut behind his hulking frame and Mari was left with two children looking at her. The pink-haired girl looked like she might burst into tears at any moment, and the boy she was still holding squirmed some more until he accidentally kicked her in the shin and she dropped him to clutch onto her hurt leg.

" _Ow_ ," she hissed before she straightened up and put her hands on her hips, "Alright, what's this all about?"

"It's his fault!" the girl squealed at the same time the boy shouted, "It's not my fault!"

"Hey!" he glared at the girl, and Mari took notice of their clothes; 'Marine', big and blue written across their chests, they were probably cabin boys. Or, a cabin boy and girl.

Mari tapped her foot without saying a word, because the 'displeased mother' had worked with kids before, and it seemed it would work again because the two children immediately noticed and jumped back to attention, the boy somewhat sullenly.

"Smokie wanted to get cigarettes, he wanted Hina to distract Mr. Shop Clerk while he stole them," the girl said in a rush, "He told Hina to do it! Hina said we were going to get into trouble."

"I was going to leave money!" the boy 'Smokie' protested, "I wasn't gonna steal nothing! Listen, we weren't doing any harm-,"

Mari's foot tapped a little more vigorously and he quieted down.

"Don't get into smoking, kid, it's a filthy habit," she said once she had his attention, "And you, young lady, if you knew you were going to get into trouble, why did you go along with this?"

"Be-Because, uhm, because Hina-," she faltered under Mari's gaze, and Smokie stepped in.

"You're not gonna report us, are you? It was my idea, she didn't do anything bad so I should take responsibility" he said, but it was more of a challenge, a sulky glare leveled at Mari. She shrugged.

"I don't see any reason to. Don't do it again though."

Just like that, the conflict was over, or at least it was for Hina. The young girl beamed and came up to Mari to grasp onto her hand now that it didn't look like they were in trouble. Smokie on the other hand, kept his churlish expression and arms crossed. He had a bandage on his cheek and a smudge of dirt on his forehead which he didn't seem to know about.

"What's your name, Miss?" Hina asked her, and gosh if she wasn't adorable, "Hina doesn't think she's seen you before."

"I, uh, just arrived here," Mari told her, "You two know where I can find some tools?"

"Did you come with Garp-san? Are you part of his crew?" the girl asked with wide, awe-filled eyes, as they started walking and Mari let her lead them while Smokie followed with his hands carelessly folded behind his neck, "He got here this morning and everyone's making a fuss because they didn't know, but Hina and Smokie have known about him coming for a week now."

"How's that?" Mari questioned, stepping around how she actually got here and just rolling with it, and Smokie answered.

"The commanding officers on this island didn't know Garp was coming because he didn't tell them. But all of the cabin boys—," ",And girls," Hina piped up—"Yeah, yeah, and girls, are in good with each other," the young boy said seriously, "We all let each other know stuff like what's going on or who's who in the Marines."

"Oh, so you know who to suck up to?" Mari asked, placing a hand on her chin and nodding thoughtfully, "That's a pretty good strategy, although not really my style. It's clever, and you make connections that could be beneficial to you later-"

"What? No, what the hell?" Smokie cut her off, "It's not so we know whose ass to kiss, it's so we know who to respect."

"Indeed! We would look right fools if we made casual conversation to higher-ups," Hina nodded fervently, "Rank is everything in this world, and it's imperative that you know your place and give those above you the proper homage they deserve."

"Wow, you are very well spoken, how old are you?"

"Ten!" she said proudly, and Mari thought back if she had ever been as eloquent in her life as this ten-year-old. She didn't think so, "Oh, but what's your name, Miss? I'm Hina, and this is Smokie-kun!"

"Smoker," he corrected sternly, "My name is Smoker."

"Mari. Mari Currie."

Mari's hand could have been made of molten lava for how quickly Hina dropped it to jump onto Smoker and squeal in shock, which left the boy scrambling to hold her up and Mari with a pounding heart from the scare.

" _You're Mari Currie?!_ " Hina shrieked in excitement, "No way! Smokie, it's her!"

The white-haired boy didn't have anything to say to that, but he was now staring at Mari with a new awe instead of his usual grumpiness, and Mari did not have a sweet clue what was going on.

"Ah, do you...know me?"

"Of course we do!" Hina was smacking Smoker's shoulder repeatedly, which couldn't be comfortable, "Mickey stationed at Faravell Island told us about how you took down a Whitebeard pirate—a _Commander_ Whitebeard pirate—in a single hit _BOOM!_ and KO'd! and, and then, and then Sho-chan at Feast Island said he saw you take an entire fleet of giant pirates by yourself with his own eyes. All over twenty feet tall! They had taken the whole Island hostage! Nobody could beat them, even the Marines! And you swooped in and saved the day-!"

The girl was working her way toward hysteria, Mari was certain. Smoker patted her back until she calmed down.

"Sho-kun said you had to be a Commodore at least," he said with certainty, "You don't look like much, but if you really did all those things..."

"They make it sound a lot more impressive than it actually was," Mari said, electing to not address several things he just said.

"So modest," Hina breathed in wonder, "No wonder you're on Garp's ship."

Mari shrugged again, letting the children assume what they wanted—couldn't hurt much, could it?—and let them lead her back to the Marine's base, pointing out little trademarks of the city as they went. She only gave a passing thought to the fact that once again, she was dreadfully being dragged back in with the one of the groups she wanted to least in this world.

* * *

 **(Year 0, Week 3, Day 4)**

"Up and at'em, squirts! We've got business to attend to!"

If the bellow that echoed through the room full of slumbering Marines didn't wake Mari up, then the kick to her head sure did. With a pained yelp, she fell out the hammock she had been sleeping in and onto the cold wooden floor, rubbing her pounding head disgruntledly.

"Sorry," someone mumbled from above her and she looked up to see the person who had kicked her, Rosi, staring apologetically down at her.

"Don't worry about it," she waved him off, "I have a thick skull."

She had met Rosi two days ago when she first slipped onto Garp's ship and integrated herself so seamlessly it almost scared her. You might ask _why_ she snuck onto the ship in the first place: well, she had a good reason. Mostly, it was a place to sleep and, later she found out, get free food. Now, someone with higher morals might have some reservations about doing this. Mari did not. The way she reasoned it was, she had done a fair amount of work for the Marines (either unintentionally or unwillingly, but that was beside the point) and she felt that there was no harm taking just a little bit of compensation for it. If she was going to be mistaken for a Marine anyway, why not take advantage of it? Marine life, she discovered, actually suited her surprisingly well. There was a simplicity to working on a ship, even if they were in port: being assigned mindless cleaning duties, training with other "fellow" recruits, and she didn't know how many ships had to go through constant repairs because the commanding officers liked smashing through walls, but she also enjoyed fixing up the ship which was something familiar that she missed doing sometimes. During the day, she would sometimes slip back into the city to check on Tweety and ran into Smoker and Hina a few more times.

Rosi she had developed something of a fondness for in her time on board. Not many people questioned her presence—those that did, she simply shrugged away and told them it was a big ship, which they accepted—but Rosi didn't ask questions when she scrambled into the empty hammock close to his the first night she was there. She could appreciate a person who didn't ask questions. He was a quiet sort, maybe a bit obnoxiously tall which Mari took personal offense in, but that wasn't his fault. The poor kid was nearly eight feet tall and had to squeeze himself into a ball to fit in his hammock because his legs would dangle out if he stretched them. Or accidentally kicked whoever was close.

He helped her up as the rest of the crew scrabbled around them to wake up and get into positions. She felt strangely off balance as they made their way up to the deck, but it didn't become clear why until she was outside and could see the ocean.

Just the ocean.

There were no more ships next to them, no town raising up in the distance, no sound of wharf workers calling out to each other.

They were not in port anymore.

Pushing down her rising panic, she glanced wildly around and saw the Island they had been at in the distance. She could still make out the details of the portside city, meaning they weren't too far away, thank the stars, and she was just beginning to calculate how long it would take her to swim back when a rifle was shoved into her hands.

"Alright, squirts, listen up!" Garp boomed, walking down their lines, "You all should know what's coming, we've been after these bastards for weeks. Their flagship has been spotted and we'll be coming up alongside them soon. Remember, Whitebeard is mine to handle, but every other pirate is fair game. Have fun and try not to die, bwahahaha!"

That panic she had been pushing down? Shot right back to crippling levels. She did _not_ just hear 'Whitebeard' and 'pirates'. Why, oh god, why did she come aboard this ship? It put her in exactly the situation she did not want to be in. What was the one thing she told herself when she started her journey? Don't mess with Marines or pirates. How could she have messed up something so simple so spectacularly.

Her mounting panic-attack must have been happening for longer than she thought as she and Rosi stood quietly side by side, but nobody must have noticed her internal crisis because nobody had mentioned anything. But suddenly, or at least to her, she was facing down a ship that looked remarkably like a whale, filled with pirates that were sending them hostile looks. And maybe a couple of rude gestures. Actually, a lot of rude gestures. And then they were side by side and all hell broke loose.

She wasn't quite sure when the pirates boarded them, but it must have happened at some point because she was now fighting men and women in varying states of undress and cleanliness. Rosi beside her, quiet, slightly awkward and clumsy Rosi,was taking down the pirates with brutal efficiency while she settled for using her rifle as a blunt object.

"Why aren't you shooting anyone?" he yelled to her while they worked their way through a new wave, yelling and gunshots and general chaos making it hard to be heard.

"I kinda don't know how to use a gun?!" she screamed back as she used the butt of the rifle to knock out a pirate with their captain's symbol tattooed across his wide, bare chest.

"Are you kidding?!" he laughed as he kicked a pirate nearly two feet taller than him back overboard and into the water.

Overall, things were not going as badly as she dreaded. Meaning she had not died or sustained critical injury. That would have been pretty bad in her books. She was beginning to think she could survive this and hopefully they would return to the Island when something bright and blue caught her attention out of the corner of her. Oh no.

And just like that, there he was, the complete and utter asshole that Mari had been trying to get away from, landing on two Ensigns with huge, clawed feet and knocking them to the ground in a flourish of flaming wings. She shook herself out of the awe that watching those flames brought and called angrily out to him.

"What are you doing here, you fucking prick?"

In hindsight, this was probably not one of her smartest moments.

It happened too fast. One moment he was staring at her in surprise, and then the next, a grin had spread across his face and with a rush of burning blue wings, his claws were on her shoulders, pushing her backwards, over the side of the ship, and into the sea. She distantly heard Rosinante yell her name and glimpsed the stupid Phoenix smirking down at her as he hovered over the water before she crashed through the surface and everything went quiet.

* * *

 **(Year 22, Week 32, Day 1)**

"I'm going back to Grand Line."

Mari looked up from where she was balancing the rocks on his desk as he came back to his office, all cleaned up from the medical wing. It occurred to him that he had never seen her behind a desk before and briefly tried to recall what her title was, because all officers over the rank of Captain had an office at least in one Marine base somewhere. But, he dismissed it as her eyes fell upon him, contemplating.

"OK." was all she said.

"You're not going to make a fuss to the higher-ups?" he asked, unable to keep some surprise out of his voice.

But, she simply rose an unimpressed eyebrow—ever since he could remember, she had a remarkable ability to make you feel like you were terribly small with a single look, something Hina had picked up from her—and gave a small snort.

"Would it make a difference to your choice if I did?"

No, but it would have made a difference to him. She didn't need to know that though. So, he shrugged and waved her out of his chair, sitting down heavily and sighing.

"What are you doing in Loguetown?"

"Passing by," she said, staring out the window and the rain trickling down it now. And then, more quietly, "I wanted to see it. The execution platform."

He rose an eyebrow at her this time, leaning his chin on the hand he propped against the chair's arm.

"Good timing. It's the-,"

"Anniversary, yes," she cut him off and they were silent for a beat.

"I saw it happen. Were you there for it?"

She shook her head, still gazing out the window. She was quiet for a long moment.

"I met him once," she finally said, "Maybe when I was about your age when I first met you."

He looked sharply at her, and once again, he was reminded that for all that he had thought he did, he knew astonishingly little about Mari and her life, especially her life before they had met. She glanced away from the window and gave him a small smile.

"He was certainly an incredible person. One of the reasons I started my journey in the first place," she slipped away from the window and patted his cheek, "You have fun in Grand Line. And make sure to bring a jacket, it gets fucking cold there."

He waved her off gruffly and pulled out two cigars, making her chuckle quietly.

"Filthy habit."

"I'm literally made of smoke, it doesn't hurt me."

"Filthy habit," she said again with a smile and walked out of his office with a wave, "Maybe we'll see each other again. Take care, brat."

* * *

 **Author's Corner: Hey-a! ...Yeah. I know. Alright, so the short explanation for my absence is that I've been too busy with not enough motivation to write my stories recently. I won't go into detail, so yeah. There's that. I am sorry for taking so long away from writing, guys, I really am. As of right now, CotC will be put on hold because it is such a massive undertaking that I simply cannot commit to :c I might do an update for Christmas, but expect it to be put off until next year. Other than that, I hope to continue to work on this story and hopefully get a few of my others posted. But, as always, thank you for reading and supporting me, and I hope you'll stick around! I really cannot thank you guys enough**

 **-jj**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: First Fight (Year 14, Week 33, Day 5)**

She had been on that tiny, wild island for three months. It was by pure accident that she found it. Looking back, it probably wasn't the greatest of ideas to fly blindly into Grand Line, paying no heed to the Log Pose, and in the middle of a storm too. But, it had landed her on this strip of an island and it hadn't been too bad. What she had first thought was an uninhabited island, thickly forested and appearing untouched by humans, was actually home to a group of people that she didn't think knew anything of the World Government, or Marines, or pirates. They didn't speak any language Mari recognized and relied on very rudimentary but quite clever and in its own way advanced technology, and lived mainly as a hunting-fishing-gathering society, although there were small patches of gardens dotted about the small village that was located among the trees, just beside the beach. Stranger and outsider though Mari was, they welcomed her after a brief period of mistrust and there she spent three months, living their life.

In the mornings, she would join a small group of people that went out into the ocean with long boards of oval-carved wood and was taught how to 'surf'. Late morning to late afternoon, she joined the women, young and old, who went diving in the reefs to find pearls which the islanders used to make beautiful jewelry; she was only ever bested in diving, both in how deep she could go and how long she could hold her breath, by the oldest woman—whose tanned skin was lined and breasts drooped far down her tattooed chest—who had been doing this her entire life and held unparalleled grace in the water. The rest of the day and into the night she would help build projects or make tools for the people. It was a repetitive yet tranquil life and sometimes in the dead of the night, she thought about staying there forever and never going back.

It was on one of those nights that he found her. She probably would have known that something was up if she had heard the yelling of the villagers, but her own sobs and heavy breaths drowned them out, and she startled when a hand settled on her back. Her eyes snapped open to see a familiar blue light dancing around the dark little hut the people had kindly given her.

"So this is where you've been hiding?" he asked quietly, and embarrassingly, she fell into fresh sobs and into his arms.

He held her while she cried, his warm flames bringing comfort—at least until one of the village women burst in, wielding a spear and yelling something that probably meant to ask if Mari was alright. She had three children and deadly accuracy with her spear, and was usually the one to invite Mari into her family home for meals, and Mari sometimes thought that if that's what mothers were like, she would have very much liked one. After some complicated pantomime to get it across that she was OK, and seeing what looked like the whole village peeking into her hut while Marco just sat there as cool as could be and didn't even bother getting rid of his flames, she was only saved when the old lady marched in, said something to the woman, gave Mari a craggy smile, and dragged the woman out, shooing away the villagers on her way. Mari had at this point buried her face in her hands to hide her shame and waited until she could no longer hear the people outside to look at Marco.

"Wh-What did you do?" she hated that her voice wavered.

"I sometimes forget people don't usually see giant birds of fire all the time," he said, bringing her gently back to his arms, "I may have startled them a bit."

"A bit," she echoed. She would have punched anyone that said her eyes were watery.

He shrugged, tucked a small piece of paper she recognized as a Vivre Card into his pocket, and shifted them so they were lying down again. They were quiet for a moment, and then:

"He was like your father, wasn't he?"

She nodded, feeling the hot tears begin to well up again.

"And your little brother? Did he make it?" he asked.

She shook her head and he held her close through the night as she cried it out.

* * *

 **(Year 0, Week 4, Day 4)**

"Curry!"

Startled from her work, Mari jolted up and hit her head on Tweety Bird's under belly where she had been tightening a few loose screws. Clutching her head and swearing profusely, she rolled herself out from underneath the Aero Ship to stare up at a tiny, shrunken old woman with a shock of bushy green hair standing above her.

"Yes?" she said, still rubbing at her forehead.

The woman was called Mama Matcha, or at least that is what she had told Mari to call her, because that's what everyone did—who this 'everyone' was, Mari didn't know, because the old lady had not gone out into town since she had come here, and she didn't really have any visitors outside of customers. She usually wore startlingly brightly colored dashikis and had a habit of breaking into song, but she let Mari and the Tweety stay in her little shack by the docks that doubled as a small warehouse and occasional ship repair place, in exchange for help with customers.

"I need you to go to the market, for some red chili peppers, and lots of 'em, Curry!" That was another thing about Mama Matcha: she was hard of hearing and hadn't heard Mari's name correctly when she introduced herself. She had accepted her fate to be called 'Curry' for as long as she was here, which according to Matcha, would be another four days until the Log Pose set.

"What're you making, Matcha-san?"

"Face cream," she announced, banging her cane on the floor for emphasis, "How else you think a hundred year old woman keeps her youthful looks? The chilis' my secret ingredient. Now, getcha bum movin' and get those chili peppers!"

"Yes'm," Mari caught the pouch of Beris that was thrown haphazardly at her head and slid her wrench back into her tool belt, planning to get back to work as soon as she returned. A rag that was settled on a nearby crate was used to wipe down her neck and torso of sweat, before she pulled her shirt back on and was out the door.

Stepping outside, she had to shield her eyes against the bright sunlight. Thanks to the Phoenix bastard, she had lost her Marines hat, blown off her head when she landed in the ocean and hadn't had time to go back and get it. Although, she had to be a bit grateful for being pushed into the water, because fond of that hat though she might have been, it had given her the change to escape the ship and swim back to the Island. The air had been knocked out of her when she crashed into the sea, so she had only been able to stay under for six minutes before she had to resurface for air, but she was confident that she had swam far enough away from the ship that no one could see her by that point. After that, it had been a simple matter of making it back to the island, and she was walking onto the shore by late afternoon. After all, water was one of her greatest elements, and she _did_ have two of the best teachers when she was learning to swim. Who better than a fishman and a mermaid?

Caught up in thoughts of her family back in Water 7, she missed the sounds of screams and muffled gunshots up ahead, and didn't notice anything until the word 'Justice' was flying at her. _Holy fuck, words have taken up sentience and are coming to kill all humans and become the world's overlords,_ was the only thought she had time for before the word slammed into her and she realized it was simply a Marine wearing their typical coat. With a yelp, they both went crashing to the ground and she quickly pushed the solider (who was unconscious) off her. And then she saw the blues flames.

 _'Are you shitting me.'_

But of course, why should she expect any different at this point? There he was, taking on Marine Ensigns in the middle of the street and in broad daylight no less, the guy who seemed to follow her like a lingering cold, just waiting to pop up again and give her a headache.

Mari made an about face and was about to head straight back to Mama Matcha and tell her the fates had been aligned such as that it was impossible to get her red chili peppers when—

"Hey! You bastard!"

She turned back slowly in horror. She knew that voice. And sure enough there was the kid, little Smoker-kun, charging down the pirate that was effortlessly taking down Marines with lazy sweeps of his clawed feet. The jerk turned leisurely to look at the child running at him and rose an eyebrow in amusement.

"What's this, yoi?" he asked, dodging the clumsy punch aimed at him and grabbing Smoker by the back of his collar and lifting him up, "Do the Marines now send out children to face their opponents?"

"You killed Mari!" Smoker spat in his face, and tried to kick out at him in vain.

"Oh? You mean the purple girlie?" laughed Marco, "I just pushed her into the ocean to have a bit of fun. It's not my fault if that little fall killed her."

Around her, the fallen Marines were picking themselves up, clutching their bruises, but Mari was already ahead of them. She waved them down when they saw her making her way through, thinking she was a civilian, but some must have recognized her.

"Orders, ma'am!" a serious-looking woman asked, saluting. Others quickly followed suit.

"You guys fall back. You'll only get in my way and cause trouble," she never took her eyes off Smoker. She squared her shoulders and spoke clearly. "Hey."

He faced her and a slow grin spread on his face.

"Look at that, kiddo, turns out she didn't die. Now, don't you feel silly for being mad at me?"

"I'm mad at you anyway, you filthy pirate!" shouted Smoker, but he was also staring at Mari, wide-eyed.

"Marco, put him down," Mari said quietly.

He dropped the kid without any ceremony, and although Smoker looked like he was about to have another go at the pirate, Mari snapped her fingers and gestured him over, leaving no room for argument. He scurried back resentfully to the Marines' side while Marco put his hands in his pockets and leaned casually to one side. She only gave Smoker a once over to make sure he was alright and quietly told the others to retreat before looking back to Marco.

"Look what the Sea Cat dragged in," he remarked, that infuriating smirk in place.

"Look what the owl regurgitated," she shot back.

"What?"

"What."

He shook his head, as if trying to pull himself out before they devolved into petty squabbling.

"So, yoi. Can I take this as a challenge?" he asked, still keeping that irritating coolness about him that got on Mari's nerves. But, she shrugged.

"Take it however you want."

Without any more warning, he lunged at her. But, this time, she was ready. He seemed like he was expecting her to dodge, which is what she had been counting on and hoped this would give her a leg up. The kick he had aimed at her chest was met with her wrench, and he let out a surprised curse of pain when his ankle connected with the metal. Before he could recover, she yanked a pair of handcuffs she had picked up on Garp's ship off her tool belt and clapped one end around the ankle. Moving fast, she pushed forward with the wrench and pushed Marco off balance until he fell backwards. Somewhere in the middle of his fall, she managed by some miracle to get his hand in the other cuff. He hit the stone.

Mari flipped her wrench in her hand so that it was facing the right way and pointed it threateningly at him.

"Stop showing up around me. I hate seeing your face," she griped at him, while he lay on the ground, stunned, "Anyway, I usually wouldn't fight you, but that's for pushing me off the ship. Good _bye._ "

With her piece said and done, she spun on her heel and ran away to catch up with the Marine's. However, she was stopped just as she turned the street corner by two little forces.

"Mari-san!"

It was Hina and Smoker, both of them clinging onto her waist, and talking very fast both at the same time.

"That was incredible-!"  
"We were ever so worried about you-!"  
"Rosinante told us that you were dead-"  
"Pushed off the ship by that horrible man-!"  
"Said that he jumped in after you, but all he found was your hat-!"

"My hat?" Mari said blankly, overwhelmed by the flood of words from the two children.

"Here!" Hina presented the hat Mari had lost that had been looped to her belt; it was slightly discolored with dried saltwater, but she was oddly glad to see it again. She situated it back on her head where it fit snugly and felt a bit of comfort from it.

"How did you get back to this Island?" asked Smoker in amazement.

"I swam."

The children broke out with fresh cries of astonishment, but something caught Mari's eye. A large man wearing what looked like a chef's coat and a large hairstyle was walking down the way with bags of groceries, and he looked familiar. A Marine maybe? But, no. She froze when she realized where she had seen him before and the kids looked curiously back.

"You two, go on ahead," she told them, and though they looked like they were about to protest, she just shook her head and they hurried off. Then, she tried to put on a brave face and approached him, the Whitebeard pirate she had accidentally landed on that had started this mess, "Excuse me!"

He looked at her curiously, not with any hostility, but certainly not in a friendly way either. A shiver went up her spine when she realized that he too must be very powerful to look at an enemy like that.

"Yes?"

"Your, uh, friend Marco is down that street," she pointed over her shoulder the way she had come, "He's in a bit of a, erm, shall we say, _awkward_ situation, so you might want to help him. Yeah. Before the Marines come."

He rose an eyebrow at that, and the other one joined when she suddenly bowed to him.

"I'm very sorry!" she said, and then fled before he could respond; she didn't want to say _why_ she was apologizing. No need to paint an even bigger target on her back and remind him that it was she that knocked him out—on accident, mind—but she did feel obligated to say sorry. Manners and all that.

She sprinted all the way back to the Marine HQ, where she was promptly tackled by a crying Rosinante—quiet, solemn Rosinante that she had known for two days—and many other Ensigns that were cheering for her. Funny enough, the only thought she had was that she was going to be very late getting those peppers to Mama Matcha.

* * *

Thatch turned the corner after running into that Marine girl. She seemed familiar for some reason, but he wasn't thinking too hard on it. Instead, he was worrying about what state he was about to find Marco in. He saw Marco. The bags in his hands dropped to the ground and his brother looked up at him.

"Don't you say a word," he threatened evenly.

Marco was sitting in the middle of the street, seemingly casual, except for the fact that his right foot and hand were chained together in Sea Stone cuffs. Thatch stared incredulously, because it wasn't often that a Marine was able to pull one over on his younger brother. And then to leave him there in the middle of town...? And if he was correct, that was definitely an embarrassed flush spreading across his cheeks.

"HAHAHAHA, MARCO! WHAT THE HELL!?"

"Shut up, yoi!"

Thatch had a good laugh at his predicament until there were tears running from his eyes, before he finally helped him back to the ship so someone could pick the lock. He grinned the entire way, because it wasn't common that he got a chance to hold blackmail over Marco to wheedle favors later. This one definitely going to get him a good favor in the future.

* * *

 **(Year 0, Week 5, Day 0)**

 _Purupurupuru!_

The sound of the den den mushi came from within the compartment of the Tweety as Mari sat on the ground next to it, pulling apart the wings and checking for damage. It was vital to check the joints of the wings most often unless she wanted to find herself in a free fall mid-flight, and she was doing a final check before she could leave tomorrow, after spending the last few days on this island hiding away in Mama Matcha's warehouse. She stuck the screwdriver she was holder in her mouth and lifted up one of the hatches on the side of her ship and pulled out the pale yellow snail with a cottonball-beard to set it on the ground. She picked up the receiver and set it next to the snail as well before picking up her work.

"Hello, Mari Currie speaking."

" _Mari!_ " several people on the other line cried out at the same time and she nearly dropped her tools to pick up the receiver.

"Everyone! Hi!" she said excitedly, "Hi, hi, how are you? Sorry I haven't called, how are you?"

"Don't you worry a bit, birdie! We know you've been busy flying around, nagaga!" the den den mushi laughed, donning a wide smile full of sharp teeth, "Have you been to any fantastic lands yet? Tell us of your adventures!"

"Have you kicked any dirty pirate butt yet?" the den den mushi took on an expression with eyes that has long lashes on the bottom lids.

"Seen any exotic animals?" the little snail now had dark red lips and a scraggly bit of stubble on its chin.

"As long as Mari's having fun, that's what matters!" the den den mushi laughed, now sporting a sharp-toothed under bite that matched the beard that the original owner of the snail wore himself.

"Ugh, you would not believe the past few weeks I've had!" Mari groaned, falling heavily on her side next to the Tweety, "The very first Island I got to I was roped into doing labor for the Marines, totally unjustified, by the way. One thing led to another, and now I have a Whitebeard pirate with a personal grudge against me or whatever."

"Sounds fun!'

"Noooo," she moaned, covering her eyes, "He's really strong, and if we keep meeting up like we have been, I'm for sure going to die."

"Who is this punk?" Iceburg asked suspiciously.

"Marco or something, and he looks like a pineapple and a banana peel had a lovechild."

"He seems like a nice young man, when do we get to meet him?"

"Kokoro!" protested Mari, but she was cut off.

"Like Mini Currie could ever bag someone, stop joking!"

"You shut your nasty little mouth, Franky, I am a fucking _delight_ ," she snarled into the receiver.

"Bitch."

"Annoying twat."

"How is the Tweety Bird flying?" asked Tom, cutting over his beloved workers' bickering.

"Like a dream," Mari grinned, relaxing again, "I'm doing some tune ups because we went through some harsh weather on the last island, which was unbearably freezing, but she's been amazing so far. It's...really something."

She couldn't hold back her smile as she curled her hands around the receiver and held it close. It still made her giddy to think that she had gotten this far, that she had achieved her dream. Flying...actually flying...Sometimes, when she was up there in the clouds, and then to look around and see an ocean of a different kind surrounding her, an ocean of white, with schools of birds and currents of wind. There was nothing she had ever felt quite like it. Soaring, like something was lifting in her, like she could hardly sit still to keep her hands on the wheels she was so full of an incredible lightness, of air itself.

"Tahaha, well, I'm glad you're taking good care of her. Don't forget to take care of yourself now!"

There was some commotion on the other side of the line, and scuffling of hurrying feet.

"Ahh crap, there's some shady-looking bums hanging around," she heard Iceburg say in the background, "We'll take care of it. C'mon, Bakanky! Seeya, Currie!"

"Let's just show them Kokoro, her scary looks will chase them away."

"Oi, you brats! Take care there, birdie!"

She listened to them shuffle out of the room (accompanied by several noises that sounded like Franky and Iceburg kicking each other), leaving her and Tom alone to talk.

"I am glad that you're living your dream, Mari," said Tom, the den den mushi smiling fondly up at her, "I must also tell you: we are working on building my dream as well."

"What?!" Mari sat up quickly, her long hair falling over her shoulders, "You're building the Sea Train?! Without me? Why now? Should I come back?"

"No!" he assured her, a little too fast, "You don't need to come back, not now that you're so early in your journey. It is...well, in light of the recent death of the Pirate King, I simply realized that our dreams are not something that should wait. And with the success of the Aero Ship, I feel encouraged that my dream is not so far out of reach."

"Still...your train is much bigger than one little ship, and relies on something much more unstable than aeronautics. I feel like I should be there to help," she fretted, "Franky and Iceburg are so useless."

"Don't worry about us," he said firmly, "Continue on your path, Mari, continue living as you want. And, as always—do it with a DON!"

There was no helping the large grin that broke out on her face at Tom's words as she said goodbye and hung up, just as Mama Matcha came shuffling in.

"Curry, we're having gumbo tonight," the old woman stated grandly, tapping her cane firmly on the ground, "Go and buy some chili peppers."

"Do we need them?" groaned Mari.

"Of course! They're my secret ingredient!" she said, shocked that Mari would question her, before she sang " _Go on now, go~ Walk out that door~!_ "

"Could you go?" Mari asked hopefully; she wasn't keen to have another run in with any more pirates. Or Marines. Or anyone, really, for that matter.

"You expect a hundred and fifty year old woman to run errands?" Mama shook her cane at her and Mari was wise enough to get a move on, taking the bag of Beris as she went.

"I'll be back!" she called on her way out.

"Hurry up now!" Matcha called back, "I'm one hundred and thirteen years old and I ain't getting any younger!"

* * *

 **Author's Corner: Hey-a! Oooo, we get a bit of Mari's background! I was going to introduce who her family was in later chapters, but I felt it was probably best to do it earlier since some people had some confusion about when this story takes place. I kinda don't want to say outright when it is though, b/c I'm hoping you guys will pick up on it? If you're still having problems, please feel free to ask, but I will say that the time stamps at the beginning of new sections keep track of how long it's been since Mari and Marco first met. Hope that clears some of it up? We jump around in time in this story a lot, sorry 'u'**

 **Thank you for reading! Let me know what you guys think, because the feedback rly helps**

 **-jj**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: First Recollections (Year 10, Month 46, Day 5)**

It was a rough island, there was no other way to describe it: rough landscape ripped by rough waves and rough weather, inhabited by rough sorts of people. The rough sorts of inhabitants that happened to deal in a raging slave trade and didn't care whether they took pirates or Marines captive, and that's probably why she and he had ended up cornered down some dark dingy alley in a rough little town scraped together by the rocky seaside. Mari had tripped into the alleyway when the phoenix had grabbed her arms from the shadows, making her fall onto the dirty, oily-looking stone and drop her bag, but also avoid the swipe that a man with what look like a tattooed potato for a face had taken at her from behind.

"Do you always go stalking around shadowy alleys like a fucking creep?" she asked the Whitebeard pirate with a hint of annoyance while she looked up at him upside down.

"Only when I'm feeling particularly edgy and moody," he shrugged with a small grin, then looked casually up at the group of people that had slowly been filling in around them: they were now cut off from the alley entrance, "Or when I'm trying to avoid the eyes of slave traders. Evening, gents."

"Let's cut the pleasantries," Mr. Potato Head said, pounding his fist that was the size of a small ham into his other hand threateningly, "Why don't you and your little lady friend come with us no-fuss and make this nice and easy for everyone."

"I'm not _little_ , you shitty bastard," Mari said indignantly, scrambling to her feet and surprising the men with her outburst, "And I'm hardly his _friend_ either."

She glanced around sharply. A large wrench easily larger than her arm had spilled out of her bag; the closest available weapon. She hefted it up and flipped it once in her hand, letting it settle comfortably, familiarly, in her grip. She counted at least 20 bodies and brought her wrench up, pointing at the thugs to address them.

"Alright, you wanna dance? Let's dance."

Like a swarm of angry wasps that lacked basic hygiene care, the men surged forward. Marco watched out of the corner of his eye as the small woman met the oncoming wave of people and they both sprang into action. In no way was she a graceful fighter: she possessed no finesse whatsoever and he was sure that in a one-on-one fight, her fighting skills would be laughable.

But this wasn't a fight of technique. This was a full out brawl.

And it was clear that this, _this_ was how she fought best. This was her element; he could tell as she swiftly and surely brought down the assaulter. There was no special technique to it, no flashy moves. The only goal was to overcome each attacker as quickly as possible with sheer force, but there was a simple, systematic way she took them out. If someone was before her, she would strike and she would defeat them in one or two hits, putting all of her strength and striking intent into each one, no holding back—spending more time on an individual would cost her, so she didn't linger and only sought to end it as quickly as possible, only then to face the next person.

It was an inelegant and unrefined fighting style, and Marco was captivated by it.

He easily grabbed the fist of a large man charging at him with a fierce battle cry, pulled him forward with the man's own momentum and delivered a swift hit to the side of his neck that knocked him out before deflecting another punch and throwing the attacker into the person behind him. There were less people that aimed for him—whether it was because his reputation proceeded him or they thought Mari would be an easier target—but either way, he found he had time to sit atop the pile of unconscious bodies he had created and leisurely watch as she took out the rest.

It wasn't long before she turned around to find him lounging about, gazing at her in amusement.

"You lazy dick."

Her words sounded offended, but there was no real accusation in her voice, so he simply shrugged in response.

"And you've always told me you can't fight," he jumped down off his makeshift seat, falling into step with the smaller woman as she started to walk away; she shrugged right back at him.

"I can't. Not like you. So, I would really, _really_ appreciate it if you tried to stop killing me every time we see each other," she said in a falsely saccharine tone.

"I haven't ever tried to kill you," he said as they made their way out of the alley, each of them making sure to step on at least one of the thugs as they went. Mari decided to go the extra mile and step on every crotch she could out of spite.

"Uh-huh," she said.

"Okay, maybe once or twice."

Any rebuttal she had to that was interrupted by the Potato Head jumping up from where he had been lying on the ground with an enraged roar and making a last ditch rush at them. Without batting an eye, Mari swung her wrench up in an arc and straight into the man's groin. With a high pitched keen, the burly, slightly misshapen man fell to his knees and then onto his side when she cuffed his head with her other fist.

Looking back on it years later, Marco probably thought that this moment, watching her take down a person twice her height and at least three times her width like it was nothing, was the moment he had first fallen for her. The fact that she bent down to tie the man's shoelaces together with a vindictive little smile only sealed the deal.

* * *

 **(Year 14, Week 3, Day 2)**

She laughed as she maneuvered the Tweety Bird to duck around the Phoenix, and then brought the Ship into a loop that had her suspended upside down in the air. Marco pulled up underneath her and mirrored the loop, so close that she could see the individual blue flames jump, and if she reached her hand out just so...

They had entered something of tentative friendship a few months back, after running into each other for nearly fifteen years. Now, whenever they met up, they usually went for flights together, because they both agreed: there was nothing quite like it, and it wasn't often that they got to share it with others. Racing, looping, or simply gliding, Mari might dare to say that flying with him was fun.

The Phoenix laughed as he went into a corkscrew spin while she smoothed out of the loop. He straightened out and glided for a bit so that he was directly above her. When she looked up, he blocked out the sun, but the light of his flames still cast a blue light. He glanced down and gave her a grin, white teeth illuminated by the fire, hair tossed by the same wind that made her hair stream out behind her.

Looking back on it years later, Mari thought that this was probably the first time she fell for him.

* * *

 **(Year 15, Week 21, Day 6)**

Marco was definitely looking forward to her reaction to Fishman Island. Well, not 'looking forward to', because that made it sound like he was invested in her emotions. Which he wasn't! No, it was better to say he was...predicting how she would react and waiting to see if he was right. Yeah. Sure enough, when the ship sunk below the waves, she was enthralled and began asking non-stop questions about the technology that allowed that. And when the island itself came into view, he was expecting the wide-eyed amazement that she and a lot of the new crew members sported. What he didn't quite expect were the first words out of her mouth upon seeing a mermaid.

There were a group of the beautiful women sunbathing on a bed of rocks and waving and calling out to the ship. Mari wasn't the only one leaning over the railing, but she was the only one not looking lovestruck.

"What the fuck are _they_?" she asked, quite bluntly.

"Are you blind?" someone next to her said incredulously, "They're mermaids of course!"

"What the...?" she seemed genuinely thrown by this, "What the fuck kind of mermaids are those? They don't look anything like mermaids!"

A few of the ladies in question had swum up to meet them and overheard Mari.

"Excuse you?" one said indignantly, "What do you mean by that?"

"Well," Mari started, waving her hand as if to gesture to her whole person that this shouldn't need explaining, "Where are your sharp teeth? And elongated noses? You just look like really beautiful women with fish tails."

"What kind of mermaids are you thinking of?!" several of the pirates demanded.

"Uh, Kokoro-san. She's a mermaid, an icefish, and she's no where near as pretty as any of these people!"

A lot of the men around her shared confused looks, but the mermaids, rather than being offended, seemed to have taken her words as compliments.

"Oh my~," the one who had first spoken, a stunning mandarinfish mermaid with royal blue hair and piercing amber eyes, said while batting her eyelashes at Mari, "You think we're pretty?"

"Of course," she said plainly, "I don't think I've ever seen more stunning beauty in my life."

"Kyaaa~!" the mermaids behind the mandarinfish all fell into blushing swoons, while the mandarinfish grinned and wrapped her arms around Mari's neck.

"My, my~, I'm sorry I don't have too sharp of teeth, but I promise I can still bite," she said in a sultry voice, "Why don't you come and play with us?"

Mari looked off to the rest of the crew and gave a single, serious-faced wave.

"I'll be going then. See you guys 'round," she jumped over the rail and was ushered away swiftly by the mermaids; Marco heard her begin to fire off questions as they left like, "How do these bubbles work? What materials do you use to build things down here?"

Because of course she would.

"Mari-san is amazing at picking up women?!" the crew yelled in shock.

"I wonder if nee-san would teach me how to do that," a younger member marvelled.

"Don't bother asking her. Naturals at that sort of thing aren't good teachers," Cherie, the head nurse, said, coming up to join the crew by the railings and blowing a kiss to another group of mermaids that had wandered over, making them blush and giggle, "And you lot would need a _lot_ of teaching."

"Hey, are you saying something about us?!"

"Why ever would you think that?" she asked with a cool smile and flip of her hair, and walked away before any of them could retort.

"Marco~, aren't you going to go after Girlie?" asked Thatch, sidling up to his side.

"No, yoi," he replied, waving casually back to the merpeople that had started congregating around the ship, "Why would I?"

Thatch just gave him that irritating laugh when he thought he was being superior or knew something that Marco didn't and patted him on the shoulder. It left him feeling slightly irked, but he didn't let on because then Thatch would go thinking he had a base for his teasing. Which he didn't, Marco insisted to himself.

He glanced over to the disappearing head of purple.

 _He didn't._

* * *

 **(Year 16, Week 12, Day 2)**

"Pops…"

Whitebeard looked down at his son over the rim of his sake cup. The girl (even though she couldn't really be called a 'girl' anymore, being in her thirties now) was preparing to leave. She did this, ever since she and Marco had officially become friends: she would show up out of the blue and travel with them for however long she wanted, and then when she got restless, would take off again. The Whitebeard pirates had long since gotten used to her and some even had started calling her sister.

Marco was standing by his side, watching as she got her Aero Ship ready. He lifted a questioning brow at his son.

"I think I'm about to do something astronomically stupid," Marco told him with a smile, before stepping up, "Oi! Girlie!"

Marco's call garnered the attention of everyone on deck gathered to see Mari off and the pilot herself. Like Whitebeard, she raised a questioning eyebrow at him and he grinned.

"I think I love you."

A stunned silence fell like a wet blanket over everyone, and Mari stared at him in…something very similar to horror before the biggest, deepest blush exploded on her face.

He smirked and started stalking toward her.

His movement seemed to kick start life again and all of the pirates cheered, hooted, and hollered, their Father's mighty laughter booming over all of them. Mari however, did they only thing she ever knew how to when faced with situations she didn't know how to handle.

She ran.

She leapt into the cockpit, revved the engine, and with an almighty burst of speed, was flying down the deck of the Moby Dick, gaining air rapidly. Marco felt a thrill shoot up his spin as he began running, his arms forming wings—she was going to make this a chase, and damnit, he was all too happy to give her one.

"Go get 'er, Marco!"  
"Marco, don't let her get away!"

Yelled encouragements rang from both sides of the crowd as he pursued the Aero Ship, and more importantly, its pilot that had somehow managed to wiggle her way into the Phoenix Commander's heart. He saw her glance back and saw the pure panic in her eyes when she saw him following her and the bright crimson of her cheeks. His smile grew.

She accelerated, her Tweety Bird jolting ahead of him, but this was different from sixteen years ago when he didn't know what her strange Ship was capable of. And he wasn't just any Whitebeard pirate like back then. He was the First Commander and Whitebeard's right hand man; he was stronger, faster, and he knew he could catch her this time.

She had already gained quite a distance from the Moby Dick when he swooped in front of her, and they were only saved from colliding by her quick reflexes. But, as she swerved to avoid him, it exposed her side and he latched onto the cockpit with one clawed foot. Her characteristic squeak rang out and he smirked victoriously.

"No, no, NO, you're not allowed to do that!" she yelped, still trying to urge the Tweety Bird to keep flying and dislodge Marco's grip. However, his hold was iron and his powerful wings held her and the Aero Ship in place.

"I'm not letting you go until I hear an answer," he said, maintaining his grip on the Tweety and struggling to keep them in the air. He couldn't keep the grin off his face—it had been a while since he had enjoyed himself this much.

"Typically having an answer requires a question to be asked in the first place," she yelled, slightly hysterical, but she hadn't lost her ability to make a retort, something which made him smile even wider.

"Alright then, since you're so stubborn…" he enjoyed her look of mortified embarrassment at this whole situation for a moment before asking, "Will you be mine?"

He didn't get a response.

What he got was a cuff of seastone around his ankle.

He looked down in shock at what she had done as his wings dissolved and the Tweet-Cheap jerked forward, finally free of its restraint. However, she caught the front of his shirt before he fell into the ocean, swung the Aero Ship around, flew over the Moby Dick, and let him crash down onto the deck.

"YOU ARE SUCH AN IDIOT, I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU!" she screamed back at him, flying away once more, and this time, he couldn't chase her. Marco sat up and rubbed his chin where he had landed face first into the planks of wood, watching in a subdued way as his girlie flew off; he could still hear her throwing curses back at him. His brothers were now howling with laughter at his expense. Whitebeard laughed loudest of all.

"Gurara! You've found a fiery one, my son!"

He watched the Tweety fade into the distance, and smile playing on his lips.

"It would appear so, yoi."

Izou smacked his head.

"Oi!"

"You have no tact at all," his fellow Commander stated in exasperation, following with a long-suffering sigh. All the same, he took the key attached to the handcuffs around Marco's ankle and unlocked it for him.

"I think that's the second time that girl's outsmarted you with seastone," Thatch chortled, coming over to join them, "Girlie sure is full of surprises isn't she? Oh, Marco, you should've seen her face up close when you pulled that, it was _priceless_."

* * *

 **(Year 20, Week 2, Day 4)**

Ace stared wide-eyed at the purple-haired woman sitting among the Commanders, nursing a beer and looking perfectly harmless. She looked slightly grumpled at something one of the pirates said as they laughed, but he could see amusement in her eyes.

"Did she really do that?" he asked in awe.

"Yup," Thatch laughed, "Dropped his sorry butt right onto the deck and then hauled ass out of there."

This was the first time the boy had been on deck when Mari had flown in, and the Fourth Commander had pulled him aside to explain her history with the Whitebeard pirates, and that no, you shouldn't attack her because she's not actually a Marine. They joined the Commanders to fill their drinks and Ace couldn't help but approach her about the particular story Thatch had just shared with him.

"Wow, I would have never thought that you would've been beat Marco off, especially get seastone cuffs on him. I would've loved to have been there to see him look like an idio—OW!"

Marco had appeared next to the freckled teen and smacked the back of his head. He _still_ didn't know how the dumb flaming chicken's punches hurt so much.

"Don't underestimate Mari, she's a wild card," the Commander said easily.

"I wouldn't have been forced to do it if you hadn't been an idiot," Mari huffed.

"Still waiting on that answer, yoi," Marco retorted, laughter in his eyes.

"Don't bet on one any time soon," she mumbled into her drink, but Ace could see a slight blush on her cheeks.

Later that night, or maybe it was the early hours of morning, when everyone had fallen asleep and a hush fell over the ship, Ace was woken when something rustled against his leg. Two figures were climbing up the stairs which he had passed out on the bottom of and were headed towards the quarter deck, the back of the ship. He remained still, not wanting to alert anyone just yet. When the staircase no longer shook with steps, he slowly crawled up them to see what was going on. He peered over the top step, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. He saw a short flare of blue flames as Marco jumped up onto the very back of the ship over the stern and a billowing white coat as he then helped Mari up, where both settled down, a bottle of Pops' good sake in Marco's hand. Ace realized it must have been the long Marine jacket that had brushed against his leg and woken him up.

"I see that the family is as lively as ever."

They were talking in low voices and Ace had to strain to hear them.

"Of course, yoi."

There was a pause while Marco uncorked the bottle with a quiet _pop!_

"So, what have you been up to? Any more people mistake you for a Marine?"

Mari laughed softly.

"Oh, you have no idea."

Ace listened as she told Marco what seemed to be everything that had happened since they had last seen each other, what Islands she had been to, stories of her adventures and her uncanny ability to be pulled into them on accident. Marco occasionally shared some of his owns tales, either more recent or from his many years of pirating, but mostly he seemed content to sit and listen to her. Ace felt like he was intruding on something private; even though they were just talking, it held an air of learned familiarity to it that made it seem routine, ritualistic even, to the pair. This was something they must have done many times before, something that had created a small, private piece of the crazy world just for them. He knew he should stop eavesdropping, but he didn't want to move—Marco had a mysterious way of knowing what was happening around him. It was like he had a pair of eyes on the back of his head. If he moved now, Marco was sure to sense him and probably give him a sound smack for listening in on them.

However, he didn't even have to move. A bottle cork came zooming at him and hit him squarely in the middle of his forehead. Ace smothered his cry of surprise and glared at the First Commander, rubbing his forehead as the Haki-imbued cork bounced harmlessly away, returning to a normal color, not that Ace noticed. Marco was glancing back at him out of the corner of his eye, his signature smirk on his face, but then he turned back to face the sea, pouring himself another cup of sake from the bottle the cork had come from.

"Hm? Is something the matter?" Ace heard Mari asked.

"Nothing, yoi."

Ace knew that he had been caught and that it was his cue to go away, but not without grumbling that he was going to get even with the smug Phoenix bastard at some point. Before he slipped down the stairs though, he looked back to see Marco wrap his arm comfortably around Mari's waist and have her settle against him.

* * *

 **(Year 20, Week 13, Day 1)**

"It's mutiny," she concluded.

Marco looked over at her were she sat in the middle of his bed, nested into his blankets while he finished some paperwork at his desk. He had put it off because he had...other things he had been preoccupied with. Shirts and shoes and other accessories lay strewn haphazardly about his bedroom, and he himself was clothesless save for a pair of briefs he had pulled on blindly when he left the bed earlier. Without a shirt on, red marks that littered his skin and stood out angrily could clearly be seen.

Very preoccupied indeed.

Mari sat cross-legged in the center of the mattress, blankets draped over her head and shoulder; it was cold without him there. She had been awake for a while, but realized that he needed to concentrate and so quietly sat in her own thoughts, listening to the _scritch! scritch!_ of ink on paper.

"What is, yoi?"

"Most of the body's organs don't rebel against you," she said, not giving him a direct answer, "Like lungs. They're essential to breathe you know. Liver you can usually depend on, and kidneys! If one fails, there's always a back up plan. Unless you lose the second one too, in that case you're screwed. Stomachs are useful as well. And they all usually do what they're supposed to, or at least, they don't actively try to sabotage you."

Amused, Marco set down his pen and turned to face her in the chair, draping his arm over the back.

"Oh?" he prodded, and she met his gaze.

"Hearts as organs, I've decided, are completely unnecessary," she stated resolutely.

He couldn't help the chuckle that slipped out at her bizarre statement. Deciding to push the rest of his work off to Thatch (the financial forecasts for the Moby Dick's kitchens; it _was_ Thatch's work anyway), he stood and climbed back into his bed, sitting across from Mari and tugging her by the legs until she was practically sitting in his lap.

"I think hearts are pretty necessary to live," he said, brushing her bangs out of her face and pushing the blanket back off her head in the process.

"Then why does it make me feel like I'm dying sometimes?" she challenged, ducking her head off to the side as a bit of a flush overtook her cheeks, "Like I said: it's mutiny. Completely useless. And it only happens when I'm around you."

"...I feel like I should be offended by that," he said jokingly, stroking the side of her throat with his thumb softly.

She looked back to him, unfolding her legs so that they could rest comfortably on either side of him. Her hand came to rest over his and he began to press soft kisses to her bare shoulders where twin tattoos of red flower-like symbols rested—the ones she had gotten to honor Tom.

"Useless," she repeated quietly, "But...not all bad."

* * *

 **Author's Corner: The summary of this chapter is: two idiots take a painfully long time to fall in love. That's it, that's the story. Also, fun fact: the mandarinfish mermaid's name is Gonet. She's beautiful and colorful and I love her.**

 **Thank you for reading! Hope you stick around!**

 **-jj**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: First Losses (Year 14, Week 35, Day 6)**

The Log Pose had brought her to a deserted island, this one actually uninhabited unlike the one she had hidden away on which she had originally thought was empty. She and Marco had said their goodbyes only a couple days ago, after staying for a week together on the isolated Island Mari had come to know as Lono from the natives. It had been sad departing from the people that had made her feel so welcome. Deep in her heart, she knew that she would never be able to find that island again, would never see them again, but she had been able to take pieces of it with her so that she could remember it. Waka, the woman who would invite Mari to her family meals, gifted her something that looked like an intricately carved spearhead lined with shark fangs which currently hung from a string around her neck. It was thoughtful, yes, and beautiful as it was deadly, but the thing she had received from Hopoe, the old woman who bested her in swimming, meant much, much more. Mari ran a reverent hand over the dark red ink that was still healing into her skin, over the flowering-sunlike pattern that the old woman had tapped into her shoulders and upper arms as she sat in the golden sands, watching the waves tickle at her feet.

The new Island was to her liking: tropical, mellow, and quiet save for the waves and wildlife. It was a good way to get back into journeying because she didn't feel quite up to dealing with society at large as she was still in mourning. Marco had invited her to come with him back to the Moby Dick, but she also wasn't prepared for the Whitebeard's particular kind of rambunctious yet. He had nodded, just a hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his lips, because even though he loved his family, he knew that they could be overwhelming sometimes. So they had taken off together, flying side by side for just a moment before he swooped in close, kissed her forehead, and took off in the opposite direction, back to his captain and crew.

She brought her knees up and buried her red face in them as she rememebered that brief kiss.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," she mumbled to her knees; it was stupid to be embarrassed by such a little thing, when they had already shared kisses much more heated than that before.

Maybe it was because she continued chanting "stupid, stupid, stupid," under her breath trying to scrub away the heat in her cheeks that she did not notice that someone was standing behind her until she head the distinct _click!_ of a gun being cocked very close to her head.

Slowly, she tilted her head towards the looming figure next to her. It was an enormous man with a meat bone sticking out between his wide grin, and behind him were various other people, most with some kind of weapon pointed at her. A boat was beached on the sand further down from her, and a ship was anchored a ways off shore, a black pirate flag waving proudly in the breeze.

 _'Well, fuck,'_ Mari thought.

"And what's a Marine doin' on a Yonko's island?" he asked with a grin.

"Uh." said Mari.

Now, Mari was presented with a predicament. She knew that there were Four Emperor's of the Sea, and she knew that Whitebeard was one of them. However, Mari didn't really keep up with news and so she did not know a lot of things, and this included who the other three Yonko were. So, there was a one in four chance that she had come to an island under Pops' protection and in that case, this was one of his allied crews and there was a chance she could explain her position with the Whitebeard crew to them and be safe. However, there was also a 75% chance that she was in deep shit, and that was very not good.

" _Ahem_ , could I ask whose Island this is?" she asked, ever-so-politely while remaining as still as she could to not make any sudden movements.

"This is Red Hair Pirate territory," the large man said, his grin never fading and it was starting to hurt Mari's cheeks just looking at him; even worse though was the plummeting feeling inside her chest.

"Well, y'know, I must have landed here by mistake, that's my bad, I do sincerely apologize, I should probably go, I'll just be out of your hair in a moment," she said, but then something occurred to her as she looked over the group of pirates, "Wait, Red Hair Pirates? That's a pretty fucking stupid name don't you think? None of you have red hair."

That wasn't entirely true, there was like, one person with a long shaggy mane of red-ish hair, but it was more brown than red. But she didn't have time to dwell on this because as soon as the words left her mouth, she realized that it wasn't smart to insult people who were pointing a lot of weapons at her and she had probably just signed her own death warrant. And probably dug her own grave, and arranged the funeral, and given the sermon, and buried herself while she was at it.

However, rather than the sound of several guns firing off, she heard the sound of laughter.

Someone stepped out from the crowd, someone who actually had red hair and three scars running across his face; the people around him lowered their weapons as he passed, and it really didn't take a genius to figure out that this was the captain of the Red Hair Pirates.

"That is true, but unfortunately all the other names we came up with weren't that good either," he laughed.

"I still like 'the Kick Ass Eat Ass Pirates'," someone called from behind the captain and chuckles broke out amongst them, and the red-haired man laughed again. Mari felt a bit like she might be sick, a little bit confused as to why she was alive and grateful for that, but also mostly sick.

"That was a strong contender," he said, then peered down at Mari, getting a better look at her.

Confusion passed over his face, before a look of comical recognition took over.

"Mari?!"

She blinked up at him.

"Uh," she said, "Do we know each other?"

"You don't recognize me?" he asked, then chuckled briefly and scratched at his stubbly chin, "Well, it's been a while. Twenty years, maybe? I did also still have my hat and my arm when we met."

Mari tried desperately to jog her memory for this strange man standing before her, which now that he mentioned, she noticed that he was indeed missing an arm. But, so what about a hat? There were so many hats in the world, it wasn't like this was a unique thing to single someone out with. Although, now that she looked more closely at him...the wavy red hair, his face although much less baby-looking and lined with scars now did seem familiar…

And then it clicked.

"Ah!" she pointed at him, "Shitty Mugiwara-Brat?!"

* * *

Mari had never seen a party set up so quickly. The empty beach had in the blink of an eye been set up with various canopies and blankets, barrels of alcohol had been rolled out along with some portable grills, and in less time than she would have thought possible, a party was in full swing, right there on the sand.

It was a blur of drinking, dancing, and laughing, and just generally a lot of noise, but Mari let it wash around her from where she sat a little off to the side with Shanks, catching up, for she and the Yonko had indeed met before, a long, long time ago, when they were both young apprentices.

"Boy, I was sure surprised when I saw you in that Marine cap," he laughed, nearly spilling his glass of beer as he made enthusiastic gestures, "You would've been the last person I would suspect to join the Marines."

"Yeah, well, it's been a never-ending series of mistakes that landed me here, so I've just kinda stuck with it," she grumbled into her own beer before taking a swig, "But what the flipping hell about you? A Yonko? When did that happen?"

He shrugged amiably and held his arm out as if to say ' _Who the fuck knows?_ ' and Mari empathized with that.

"I dunno, really, it just happened along the way. You know, after Captain passed, I decided to make my own path and I guess I pissed off enough people to get me the title," he said with a cheeky grin.

"You can do that without becoming one of the most wanted people in the world, you know," she snipped, "Look how I turned out."

"Yeah, just as short as I remember you. Have you grown _at all_?"

She kicked him sharply in the shin and he burst out laughing uproariously. It was amazing—it was almost like twenty years hadn't passed at all since he and his Captain's crew had rolled into Water 7, looking for a ship to be made by the finest craftsman in the world. Franky hadn't been part of Tom's Workers back then, but Mari and Iceburg had been, and they had been the ones to help Tom build Gold Roger's ship that would sail Grand Line. Shanks had just been a cabin boy then, and although she was two years older than him at thirteen, he was taller (as were most people, something she _despised_ to admit), which was something he poked fun at her for. Frequently. It often earned him kicks to his shins, or if she was feeling particularly vindictive, whatever tool was in her hand thrown at his head.

It was almost exactly the same now.

But of course that wasn't true.

They had both grown and travelled, and seen wonderous things, and meet people of all kinds, and lost things important to them, and gained memories good and bad, and had marks to prove their past. Something sharp flared up from somewhere inside her chest, somewhere right behind her ribs, at the familiarity of this scene, but also the knowledge in that everything had changed, and the acute awareness that it was missing certain things: things like the laughter of two men that would guffaw over their apprentices' antics, each encouraging their own to come out the winner in their little spats, all done in the friendly spirit of comradery though.

Shanks must've noticed that she had quieted down as his chuckles faded and he shared a look with her. There was unspoken understanding in that look.

"I heard about Tom," he said gently. It wasn't a pitying tone, which Mari was grateful for. He knew what it was like, to have a cherished mentor die.

She nodded shortly, and when she didn't say anything, he raised his glass, silently nodding for a toast of some sort.

"He got to see his dream completed," Mari said, a clinked her glass against his before downing the rest of it, "And he did it with a don."

"He was a good man." He chugged his as well and set down his glass with a satisfied puff before he turned to her with a smile back on his face, "Right! Did you know that this Island has some coral reefs that glow in the dark at night? Fancy seeing them?"

* * *

 **(Year 14, Week 36, Day 1)**

The sea was calm for once, so calm it looked like a sheet of glass as she sailed above it. There were many shallows, reefs, and sandbanks around here, and the white sand made the water such vibrant blues, so colorful that it almost looked unreal, so bright it almost looked like flames of blue that she knew so well by now. It reminded her of geodes she had seen upon her travels, all of the different shades layered and folded into each other. She landed the Tweety on a strip of sand barely rising out of the water and took a moment to stare around at the horizon that wrapped her on all sides, a darker blue line all that was separating the crystal ocean from the flat line of the sky.

When she thought that she might just be swallowed by all the _blue,_ the moment was broken by her den-den mushi ringing. She shook herself out of the reverie and answered.

"Hello?"

"Hi, honey, how are you?"

She must have pulled a face that the den-den mushi on the other side of the line was reflecting that showed how much disgust she was feeling, because the person on the other side laughed.

"That is gross, do not ever say that to me again. Ever," she said flatly, while Marco continued to laugh.

"Not a fan of pet names? And here I thought we were becoming closer," he sighed dramatically, "I was just calling to let you know I made it back to Pops safely. How are your travels?"

She reflected for a moment that he didn't ask how she was, knowing the answer to that already. Something kicked in her rib cage. She ignored it.

"Fair. I met an old…acquaintance I guess, but I'm on to the next island. Just taking a break right now to for the scenery. I didn't know the ocean could be so…blue."

She heard some clatter in the background and a snail picked up a voice that was more distant.

 _"Marco, stop using the white den-den mushi to call your girlfriend, we need to make actually important calls,_ " she could hear Thatch's voice yell.

"Piss off, yoi. I'll be done in a second," Marco's voice returned closer, "Well, that's all, looks like I've got to go. Take care, girlie."

"You too," she said, and then after a pause, "Marco?"

"Yes?"

"…Thank you."

She could hear a small chuckle.

"Anytime, yoi."

They hung up and Mari took one last pause to look around her before she got back into her Aero Ship.

She continued on.

* * *

 **(Year 14, Week 36, Day 7)**

She arrived back at her home late at night and had to pep-talk herself for a good half hour before she found enough courage to slip inside. She almost ran back out when she saw the light was on in the kitchen, but steeled her nerves and went further in.

There was Iceburg, sitting at the table which was strewn with papers, almost falling asleep over them. He had dark bags under his eyes and he looked paler than usual.

She knocked softly on the door frame and he jerked to alertness.

"Mari!" he jumped to his feet and rushed to pull her into a hug that lifted her from the ground, and she felt guilt sweep through her for leaving.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, "I shouldn't have run away."

He shook his head.

"We're all grieving. We just have different ways of dealing with it. Kokoro was a bit mad at you at first, but she understands. I do too."

Well, now she felt twice as guilty.

"What's all this?" she asked, pointing at the papers to focus on something else.

"I'm going to unite Water 7," Iceburg declared quietly, but his resolution shone through his words, "We're already seeing enormous growth thanks to the Sea Train, and I think this city will soon flourish. If I become important to this city which is so valued by people throughout Grand Line, by the Marines, by the World Government itself, it may give me some protection against the government in case they try to off me."

"Icey, you don't think they'd come for you, do you? Tom, he-" she cut off abruptly, sharply inhaling through her nose to collect herself before she carried on, voice a little tighter than before, "He was able to get you pardoned, wasn't he?"

"Yes, but they have proven that they're willing to resort to dirty tricks to get their hands on _this_ ," he pulled out a stack of papers that she had only seen a handful of times, but had never dared to actually look through. The weight of them was not lost on her.

She took a deep breath,

"Well, if you're going to be a respectable person, you need a change of clothes," she gave him a small smile and squeezed his hand, "No one's gonna take you seriously in that dingy old undershirt, Ice. Maybe you should get a suit or something."

"A suit?" he said skeptically, "But that's so...formal. Nma, I guess I'll have to. But I want something with bright colors so people know that I am a cool and fashionable man but still approachable and animal-loving."

She snorted.

"How do clothes communicate that much?"

"You'd be surprised."

They still had not released each other's hands. He pulled her into a hug again and their arms wrapped around each other in a way that was familiar and different at the same time and comforting and she hadn't realized she had missed.

"When did you get taller than me, punk? Huh? Who allowed that?" she asked softly.

"Nma, Mari, I've been taller than you since I was fifteen and I hadn't even gotten my growthspurt."

"Shut your fucking mouth," she smacked his chest and he finally laughed.

"Mini Currie."

"Ahoburg."

* * *

 **(Year 9, Week 12, Day 4)**

"I win."

He looked surprised, and not quite sure how to feel about it. A grin slowly spread on his face, as it sunk in. Mari stared at him, not really sure what was going on, other than that she was flat on her back, wind knocked out of her, and there was probably going to be a sizable bump on her head in the next hour. And also the piña colada she had definitely paid too much for was now wasted on the ground.

"What?" she managed to choke out.

"I won!" he said, and let out a victorious whoop, "I did it! I finally won!"

They had run into each other on the Four Seasons Island which was actually four separate islands clustered together, each with their own perpetual season. It was a famous tourist trap because it had all seasonal activities available year round: skiing and hot springs, sunny tropical beaches that were ideal for piña coladas and volleyball, cherry blossom picnics, jumping into piles of dried leaves, you name it. It was also known for its constantly changing housing situation since the natives of the Island would trade places when they wanted to experience different weather.

They had been hopping Islands for nine years now and no matter where they went, they always seemed to run into each other one way or another, and Marco had never been able to get even with her. He had been keeping score of this game of theirs in his head and according to him, he had suffered several humiliating losses, including the time she had trapped him in Sea Stone cuffs, and more recently, when she had escaped him by causing him to get caught by an avalanche on the Four Season Winter Island just yesterday.

Mari, who had never seen their encounters as a game and so was unaware that there _was_ a game _or_ a tally, had caused the avalanche completely by accident in order to avoid being killed by a crazed pirate who she could just _not_ seem to shake. But that was how most of her life was at this point so she just rolled with it.

Regardless, Marco had sworn that the next time he saw that head of purple hair, he was going to send her flying. He might've been a little salty about the avalanche. And he _might've_ still been pretty salty about the Sea Stone cuffs even though that had happened years ago. Ok, he was still peeved about it (mostly because Thatch would not let him forget it even after nine years and brought it up whenever he wanted to tease Marco— which was often), and so, when he saw the stupid, faded Marine cap on top of the stupid head of purple hair while she was sipping a piña colada and relaxing in a hammock on the Four Seasons Summer Island, he was feeling petty.

But, you know what? He was a pirate, he was allowed to be petty.

So, he kicked her straight out of the hammock and sent her flying into a nearby palm tree trunk where she hit her head.

"Nine goddamn years and I get a hit on you," he said, basking in his victory and not caring if it was all incredibly childish, "My win, your loss."

In a daze, Mari sat up off the ground and blinked at him. It took a couple seconds before she came to the realization: maybe it hadn't started that way, but over the years, Marco had come to see them as competitors or something and that this was like a game to him. She suddenly felt pretty stupid for fearing for her life every time they bumped into each other because now it seemed like there had never been any real danger, but even more than that, she thought it was so funny that of all the people in Grand Line, out of all the strong pirates and Marines he could've chosen to go after and become rivals with, he had chosen her. A small woman who had never showed the slightest interest in fighting him and more often than not ran away from him when they met. And if the worst he did was kick her out of a hammock and ruin her overpriced fruity drink in retaliation for what was apparently nine years of holding a grudge, she realized it wasn't really a rivalry he was looking for.

She started laughing.

Real, honest, belly-aching laughter that she hadn't experienced for a while.

He stared down at her with a raised eyebrow, regaining his cool.

"What, yoi? What are you laughing at?"

It was a while before she could calm enough to speak, even though a few giggles escaped every so often as she looked up at him and for the first time, didn't see him as a threat that was likely about to kill her.

"You know, if you wanted to be friends, you could've just asked."

It was his turn to laugh, although it was shorter and more surprised than hers.

"Did you hit your head too hard? You want to be friends with a pirate? You want _me_ to be friends with a _Marine?"_

"Eh, I've never been super into labels," she shrugged from her spot on the ground, "Anyway, I'm not gonna fight you. All I want right now is a ridiculously expensive tropical drink, so you can feel free to join me. Or not, it's up to you. You kinda owe me one though, since you ruined that one."

Mari pointed to the forlorn coconut shell and colorful paper umbrella sitting in the sticky mess soaking into the sand.

Marco thought about it. There couldn't be any harm in it, could there? So, he shrugged and offered her a hand to help her up. She barely came up to his shoulder at her full height, and he was taken aback as usual at how short she actually was. Which he immediately pointed out.

She responded with an eloquent "Fuck you."

So, they spent the night until the early hours of the morning getting drunk like the two young people they were, and sharing stories from their travels, no labels like 'pirate' or 'Marine' getting in the way, and even though it was her first loss, Marco found that he didn't care about the score as much any longer.

* * *

 **Author's Corner: ...I got nothing, other than, thank you so much to everyone who's commented on this fic. I went through after a year of not working on this fic and read all your lovely comments which helped me get my motivation back for writing. I missed it a lot, thank you all so much. I'll try to work on this story again as well as CotC, but I can't make any promises. Still, I'm glad I was able to share at least some of the story with you all.**

 **Thank you for reading!**

 **-jj**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: First Quirks**

There are many curiosities that surround Devil Fruits. Understandable, seeing as they are mysterious fruits that grant you fantastic powers in exchange for never being able to touch water again without feeling weak. For instance, if someone were to eat a fruit that gave them powers of an animal, that person might adopt some of the characteristics of that animal. Curiously enough, it turns out that even if that animal was mythical there are some fundamental habits that carry over as well.

* * *

 **(Year 16, Week 30, Day 2)**

There was almost nothing in Mari's life that she could count on to be consistent. The weather in Grand Line? Absolutely not. A constant supply of coffee? Iffy, unless she was lucky. The amount of time she got to herself to simply relax, be at peace, and maybe work on a tinker or two? The least likely of all.

There were only a few things Mari could count on in her life to be consistent. One, was of course, being mistaken for a Marine at every turn, with varying results depending on how the given crowd felt about Marines. Another was her most favorite coffee mug. No matter how many times she thought for sure that thing would surely break, no matter how many times she dropped it, or it got rattled around in the Tweety's hold during a storm, or how many times it got threatened by vicious pirates, that cup was a miracle that never cracked.

Another thing on this very short list of things Mari could almost certainly depend upon was Marco attacking her when she least expected it.

Even after they became some semblance of friends, even after they had become undeniable friends, and even after they became something more, Marco never gave up on trying to fight her for some unknown reason. And she sure was fucking tired of it.

She had just climbed to the top of the tallest mountain of Fuji Island—a delightfully mild Autumn Island that was covered in several mountains, onsens, temples where you could go to reach enlightenment, and a species of Giant White Zebra Finches that could usually be found around the hot springs because they enjoyed taking baths there.

It was just when she had paused at the top to hold witness to a most picturesque scene—the sun breaking over the ocean horizon to alight upon the sea of red and gold colored leaves that covered the Island to make it seem like it was blanketed in soft embers while giant finches flitted through the air that was crisp and refreshing—when she got a prickling feeling on the back of her neck that she associated with the most irksome of danger and dropped to the ground. Incidentally, this allowed her to avoid the flaming kick that sailed over her head and thoroughly destroyed the serene moment she had just been experiencing.

" _Why"_ she asked in the most put-upon tone of voice she could manage as she dodged another kick, her knapsack rattling around on her back, "the _heck_ do you do this _every time?"_

"I dunno," Marco goddamned managed to somehow _shrug_ as he punched towards her, "It's like instinct at this point. Why do you always manage to avoid my first attack?"

"You always pop up unexpectedly. That's why I expect it constantly now. It can't be unexpected if I always expect it."

"Hm."

She sighed as he tackled her and settled for flicking his forehead to show her irritation. They looked at each other for a moment before he got up off her and helped her to her feet.

"Got you," he said smugly.

"Yeah, yeah, sure. I guess you did."

Later, they enjoyed one of the hot springs that Fuji Island was famous for and watched as Giant White Zebra Finches cavorted about. Mari in particular noticed a pair where a male would dance and sing around a female finch. He would hop and do some fancy footwork and maybe occasionally flap his wings in a very showy display that she supposed showed his athleticism, strength, and good mate potential, and she had a thought as she looked between that finch and Marco.

"Is it the same…?" she thought aloud with a finger on her chin.

"Is what the same?" asked Marco.

"Hm. We may never know," Mari concluded and left Marco very confused but he decided not to ask any more about it because she flicked some water at him, so of course they had to get into a splashing battle.

* * *

 **(Year 17, Week 20, Day 4)**

In a remarkably rare occasion, they had had a whole week of downtime to spend together in perfect peace, where the stars aligned and neither of them were dragged into trouble for that entire, perfect week. There were several things that allowed this to happen: one, Marco actually wore a shirt that covered his chest for once in his life and so did not have authorities called on him due to people being unable to recognize him as the Phoenix Commander without his tattoo brazenly showing to all the world.

Two, Mari finally had some common sense to get a change of wardrobe at least for that week and blended in like the perfectly normal if somewhat deadly clumsy citizen she should have been all her life if the cards had been played differently and she hadn't been continuously thrown into adventures and scrapes, and so did not get asked by random strangers to do her job as a Marine and get involved in something troublesome.

And three, unknownst to the two of them, the Whitebeard pirates had made it their duty that week to take care of any hindrances to Mari and Marco's "Week of Relaxation Vacation". The reason for this last one was because Marco had been having a rough time leading up to this week, and the Whitebeard pirates really did truly care for their brother underneath all the relentless teasing and fun-poking and wanted him to be able to relax and enjoy himself before getting back to the teasing and fun-poking. This venture was of course headed by Thatch who had said that the mission was "to not let anything cock block them". They had also been responsible for the change of clothes of the two; they had been ambushed before they went out onto the island and forced to change. This was once again Thatch's idea in a surprising show of intelligence that the pirates were amazed to see, to the point were it offended Thatch.

Anyway.

It was a lovely week spent completely uninterrupted and Mari was actually able to relax and enjoy it after the teetering feeling that something was inevitably going to pop up and cause trouble went away at about two and a half days in. This was after Marco pointed out that she kept glancing over her shoulder as if she was just waiting for something to happen and she forced herself to calm down, but who cares.

They simply spent the week wandering around the small and pleasant Island they were on, Flossy Island, known for it's uniquely low hanging clouds that were pleasantly multi-colored, its soft trees with feathery leaves that made them look like strands of clouds had caught on the branches, and the delicious spun candy that was a local delight.

It started with simple things. Marco would see a shell or some shiny rock that caught his eye and he would pick it up and hand it to Mari without a word. She would accept it and put them in her pouch silently because Marco giving her things wasn't out of the ordinary: they both gave each other little trinkets from time to time, little souvenirs from places they had visited, or just gifts they thought the other would appreciate.

Then, he started picking wild flowers at random to put in her hair, which surprised her because she didn't think Marco was a flower-giving sort of person, but they looked nice so she went with it (and also she thought it was pretty sweet, but she didn't let on). By the time they wandered back to the town they were staying in, her braids were almost entirely covered in flowers and her pouch was overflowing with shells, rocks, and pieces of frosted sea glass.

And then it got weird.

As they strolled leisurely through the streets and markets, Marco began to take _anything_ that was so much as reflective: hairpins, pocket watches, some poor man's monocle at some point, as well as stray Beris that were lying on the ground.

"Marco," she finally had to say after he snatched a coin purse with shiny embroidery on it off the waist of a passerby that hadn't noticed, "What the _fuck_ are you doing."

"What."

He presented the purse to her.

"What do you mean, what."

She did not take the purse.

He held it closer to her, insisting that she take it.

"Marco, you have been stealing things nonstop ever since we hit this town. You've been kinda doing that this whole day, but I don't think stealing rocks and shells from nature can actually be considered stealing," she explained, just as a little ways behind them she heard several people exclaiming things like "My hairpin's gone!" "My watch is gone!" "My glasses, where are my glasses?" "Hey, where the fuck's my money?! I'm gonna kill someone!"; she shook her head to concentrate again, "Anyway, that's not the point. The point is: what the fuck are you doing?"

"Oh," he said, in something that was kind of like surprise as if he hadn't been aware of his actions, "I dunno, yoi."

She looked at him incredulously. Meanwhile in the background, the person who had lost their money pouch was retracing their steps and violently harassing people to see if they had taken their Beris. Before they reached Mari and Marco, they were intercepted by several pairs of hands and pulled into an alleyway. Marco distinctly saw all of this and recognized several of his brothers as the ones pulling the person into the alley, but didn't mention this to Mari. (He had noticed them following them around this week doing strange things like dumping buckets of shells on the beach when they noticed him picking them up for Mari, or hiding in the trees to scatter flower petals over the two of them as they walked through the jungle, or trying at some point to put together an ambient serenade that did _not_ go well, but hadn't said anything so far since they hadn't done anything to get in his way yet.)

Later, they were seated at a café—something that was jarringly normal to Mari because she couldn't remember ever having time to leisurely spend at a café—and she noticed a pair of adorably fat sparrows flitting around the empty tables, or sometimes daringly close to the café-enjoyers. The male would bring pieces of crust, bits of ribbon or shiny pieces, and even once an entire bagel to the female. And she had a thought that felt remarkably like déjà vu as she watched those sparrows and looked back at Marco.

"Is it the same...?" she wondered as she sipped her outrageously expensive latte with foam art that looked like a Doskoi Panda face and stared hard at Marco.

He looked up quizzically from a little tattered notebook he had been scribbling in.

"Is what the same?" he asked—immediately afterwards, he felt a strong sense of déjà vu but couldn't tell where it was coming from.

"It's a mystery," she dismissed, "More importantly, can you communicate with those cute little sparrows to come over here? I want to feed them."

"What makes you think I can communicate with birds?"

She pointed at the birds and then him.

"Same species?"

He threw a blueberry from his parfait at her.

* * *

 **(Year 20, Week 12, Day 6)**

" _So, yeah, I'll be visiting you all soon. Please make sure to let everyone know. Like Ace. **Especially** Ace. I don't want my eyebrows singed off again like the last time I landed on deck unannounced and surprised everyone. See you."_

It had been about a week since Mari had called Marco to say that she would be paying them a visit. No one could say exactly when she was showing up, seeing as travelling on Grand Line was always tricky, but the heads up had given the pirates of the Moby Dick a chance to clean up the place a little bit before she arrived.

Not that Mari berated them about their living conditions, but she did have an uncanny way of emanating the 'silently disapproving mother' whenever she saw things like the ceiling-to-floor pile of underwear outside the laundry room, or the racoon living in a burrow it had made out of said pile of underwear. And oh sure, these pirates could face down against the nastiest things Grand Line had to throw at them—hard-ass Marines, other rival pirates, Sea Kings, having to drink tropical drinks without the colorful little umbrellas—but every last one of them would be hard-pressed to stand unwaveringly and strong-kneed against Mari's "I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed" that could decimate even the toughest of men to dust.

But, a curious phenomenon occurred during this week. As seemingly every single piece of fabric was washed and dried and put away properly—from bedding to boxers—several things just seemed to vanish into thin air. Mostly things such as blankets, duvets, and then even pillows starting disappearing. No one had been able to catch whoever the thief was and several people were catching colds since they couldn't keep warm at night. They had been dubbed "The Blandit" (Ace, who had a knack for coming up with stupid things, had been the one to coin this term; "It's a Blanket Bandit. A Blandit, if you were." It was the stupidest thing any of the pirates had ever heard, but it stuck somehow and didn't go away).

Needless to say, when Mari landed down on the deck, tensions were running high among the pirates. Several more arguments and brawls were breaking out than usual, and even the nurses were snappier with the influx of patients. When she asked Marco about it as they went to his quarters, he said he didn't know what it was all about. And then, he opened the door to his room.

Mari stared into the confines of the room and did not step inside, even though Marco was giving her an expectant look as he held the door open for her.

"Marco." she said.

"Mm-hm?"

" _Marco._ " she said again, for emphasis as she stared at the room before her.

"What, yoi?"

"Why is your room a goddamn fucking _nest?_ " she said, gesturing at the crime scene.

The entire room had been converted to what looked like a gigantic nest of woven fabric, blankets, and pillows, leaving only enough space for the desk and wardrobe in the corner. Marco glanced around as if he hadn't noticed the décor before.

"I suppose it could be seen that way," he said calmly.

Mari turned away from the door and buried her face in the opposite wall for a moment to collect herself.

"Mari?"

She held up a finger behind her for silence. She took a deep, deep breath and then turned around again.

"I will stay in this thing for one night, and then, you have to return everything to whoever they belong to," she told him sternly, "What in the Four Blues did you do this for, you birdbrain?"

"Dunno, it just felt right," he said as he followed her into the room and shut the door behind them and she chuckled.

"I've had this theory for years, but if this doesn't prove you're actually a bird, I don't know what does," she laughed, "You're _nesting._ "

So of course to shut her up, he had to toss her onto the bed in the center of the nest which was extremely comfortable as it turned out. It didn't really work because she kept on giggling even when he joined her, but that was okay. And the next morning, everyone woke up to their bedding returned, peace restored, and the mystery of the Blandit forever unsolved.

"Ok look," Marco leveled with her before they went for breakfast, "Just don't tell anyone it was me. And why it was me."

"And what do _I_ get out of this?" she asked, unimpressed.

"My undying love and devotion?" he tried; she sent him a flat look.

"Cute. Try again."

"Unlimited rights to the coffee pot, no matter what Thatch says."

"Deal."

They shook on it as they entered the galley, to find at least three food wars ongoing, several people that were using the tables to continue sleeping (not including Ace oddly enough), ah, but then there was Ace, being kicked out of the kitchens by Thatch and followed by a fireball from an explosion as he went sailing through the doors. So, essentially, just a normal breakfast with the Whitebeard pirates.

* * *

 **Author's Corner: Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh (screaming trails off into distance)...Yeah, I know guys, I'm sorry. I can only really promise sporadic updates at this point because Time and Motivation are both fickle mistresses that do not always grace me with their presence. But yeah. Here we are.**

 **As always, thank you so much for reading!**

 **-jj**


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